As The World Falls
by Randomnormality
Summary: Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are formed. Some are broken. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer. Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope. Daryl/OC slow building
1. Part 1-1: Abomination

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are formed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out there, but I want to take my shot at it. The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up into different Parts, following the Seasons. This story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me know what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping it as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter One**  
_Abomination_

* * *

_(n) 1. anything abominable; anything greatly disliked or abhorred. 2. intense aversion or loathing; detestation. 3. a vile, shameful, or detestable action, condition, habit, etc._

* * *

The loud Rock music fills the air of the tattoo shop as Isaac and I begin the final cleaning process. Making sure to sanitize equipment, double-check the disposable needles are properly disposed of and restocking and checking the materials, I sigh as I crack my back and fingers. Saturdays are our designated 'Walk-In's' and exhausting after twelve hours of non-stop tattooing and design graphing, but each night a soft smile plays on my lips. Hey, people may frown on those that get inked, but I love what I do for a living. Setting the alarm, I follow Isaac out of the front door, instantly lighting up a cigarette as we stalk across the dimly lit parking lot.

"So, are you still coming over for the family dinner tomorrow?" Isaac asks, his blue eyes looking over at me as he takes a drag of his own cigarette, "Mel was upset when you skipped out of the last one."

Rolling my eyes playfully at my step-brother, I give his shoulder a shove we pause between our vehicles, "Don't worry, bro. I'll be there. I can't help it that my dumb-ass of a roommate was arrested for public intoxication."

Isaac lets out a chuckle as he unlocks his car door, tossing his things into the passenger seat, "Yeah. Tell that dumb shit if he fucks around with our family dinners again, I'll whoop his ass."

Stomping out the spent cigarette, I zip up my leather motorcycle jacket as I straddle the 'crotch rocket' and flash him a smirk, "Careful, I-Suck," I chuckle as he flips me off, "Don't go giving him incentive to do it again."

"Gah," Isaac groans out in disgust, causing me to laugh again as I pull my gloves on, "You, my dear, are fucked in the head. I'll see you later, Sis."

Pulling my helmet down over my head, I start the bike, driving to the exit of the parking lot. Pausing at the stop sign, I give Isaac a mocking salute before shooting out of the parking lot, heading down the barren streets. As I speed down the winding roads, I muse over really wanting to go to the 'family dinners'. While Isaac and I get along for being step-siblings, I've never had the patience for the three others I obtained. Ma tells me I should get my anger problems checked out. I don't know how many times I had to protest needing a shrink, they just needed to learn how to shut the fuck up. My step-sister, the youngest of the bunch, is a catty girl in her mid-teens and acts like a spoiled bitch. I don't know how many times the little twit ran her mouth, insulting my mother. I never once spoke ill of her father, who is a pretty decent guy, just opinionated over everything that isn't his business. The next step-sibling, is a cocky son of a bitch that I try desperately to ignore. I haven't really figured out how Isaac is related to his siblings by blood.

Gunning the engine as I weave down the back roads through the mountains, I shake away the thoughts of my step-family. Ma never really understood. I did try to get along with them. We're just too different and our out-looks in life are so radically different that 'family dinners' end up in a huge argument. Lauren, my bubbly teenage step-sister, is so close-minded it makes me sick to my stomach. Jason, my arrogant piss-ant of step-brother, has constantly questioned my lack of religious beliefs that I want to bash his head in. Even with the age difference between my twenty-eight year old self and my nineteen-year-old step-brother Isaac, we clicked easier.

Dropping the keys on the kitchen counter, I run my fingers through my hair as my other hand shifts through the mail. Rubbing the back of my neck, working the kinks out, my ears perk up as a shuffling sound pierces the silence of the house. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My house is never quiet. Not even in the middle of the night.

_'I won't always be there to protect you. You're gonna need to learn how to hold your own in a crisis.'_

Instinctively snatching a knife from the cutting block, I inwardly snort at the stereotypical beginning to a cheesy slasher movie. Moving through the dimly lit house as quiet as possible, my heart begins to race as the shuffling sound grows closer. Clenching the handle of the knife, I swallow back the fear racing through my veins.

_'Fear will always cloud your judgment. You must use your fear as a weapon itself, use it to survive.'_

Feeling a clammy, cold hand grab my arm, my reaction is immediately as I swing around, slashing at the intruder. Stumbling away from the body, I choke back the tension and fear as I slap my hand against the wall, hitting the lights. I'm not sure what the fuck it is, but there's no way that thing is human. Hollow yellow, blood-shot eyes stare blankly as black blood oozes down its chest, as if the thing isn't hindered by blood loss.

_'When your back is against a wall, make sure whatever move you make is the only one you have to make. Never give your opponent an edge.'_

As the familiar, bass voice fills my head, the words faded and echoing between my ears, I feel myself tense. Pushing through my fear, I lash out, sinking the large blade into the side of the thing's head. Immediately an animalistic groan leaves its lips before it drops to the ground, silent and still. Worried about Jamie, I pull the blade from the thing's head before racing upstairs, keeping my footsteps as silent as possible. A curious crunching and mushing sounds from behind a door, my hand slowly turning the door knob. Pushing open the door, I swallow the bile in my throat at the sight of Jamie's prone body lying across the bed. His torso ripped apart, another one of those things with its head buried in his intestines as it feasts with ravenous hunger. Moving quickly, I drive the blade through the thing's head, black blood beginning to coat my gloves. As it collapses over Jamie's desecrated body, I kick the thing off of him and shudder as I kneel next to his dead body.

"Oh, Jamie-boy," I murmur, my hands shaking as I brush his bangs from his pale, expressionless face.

A shriek leaves my lips when his eyelids part. Seeing those once-brown eyes yellow and bloodshot, the same emptiness clouding his gaze, I react instinctively, slamming the blade through the top of his head. Cursing Heaven above and Hell below, I continue to ram the knife, chopping through flesh, bone and grey matter, sobs finally escaping my throat. I can't be sure how long I remain sitting there, blood and gore filling the air with the stench of death and decay, the emptiness of my thought pattern broken at the sound of my phone ringing.

"Charlie!" Isaac's shaky voice rings through my mind.

Realizing this is not happening to just me, I swallow back my own sorrow as I move to my feet, gathering whatever items I can carry with me, "I'll meet you by the bridge at the half-point. Get whatever you can together, pack lightly and only what you need."

Stuffing clothing and food into my bag, I head into my kitchen. Collecting every decent knife, I swallow back my resolve as I tug open the only drawer that is rarely ever touched in the whole house. The black Beretta m9 resting in the drawer seems to glare at me, but I shake away my dislike of guns. He would be disappointed if I didn't take it with me. Checking the clip and gathering whatever ammo I can find, I make sure the safety is on as I slip it into the inside pocket of my jacket. Heading back to the bike, I quickly tug on the helmet and speed down the roads.

"Aunt Letty!"

Catching the flying body of my niece, I embrace the eight-year-old tightly, thankful that the kid is safe before my gaze meets Isaac climbing out of his father's truck. Seeing the pained expression on his face, I give into the torrent of emotions as we embrace. We only remain embraced for a short while before I toss my bag into the back of the truck, both of us hoisting my bike up onto the bed of the truck. Seeing more than enough bags, I nod over at Isaac, who flashes me a pained smile as he straps Mel into the backseat.

"Where are we headed?" Isaac asks, his eyes searching my own.

Pulling down the zipper, I remove the Beretta from my pocket, seeing his eyes flicker with understanding as I say, "South. I don't know what's going on, but Colt has to know something. How are we on supplies?"

"We'll only need to stop for gas," Isaac replies, biting down on his pierced lip as if hesitating to ask the questions running through his head.

"Jamie's gone. Whatever is going on seems to be a pandemic or viral at the very least. Nothing seems to effect these things except head shots."

Isaac glances over his shoulder to check on the tearful face of the sleeping child, "Lauren. Dad. Ma. Jason almost made it out, but...I couldn't go back. I had Mel."

I look away, feeling my own pain spread across my face as I hear the sorrowful tone in his voice. I am thankful he saved Mel. I don't know what I would have done if we had lost the girl.

* * *

Stopping for gas was quite the...experience? After days of non-stop driving, Isaac and I swapping driving responsibilities, we managed to make three stops for gas before running into problems. Agreeing to keep weapons on us at all times, I hop out of the truck, stretching briefly before grabbing Mel. Leading the small girl to the bathroom, I make sure the girl stays behind me as I look around for any sign of those things. Seeing none, I pull her inside and lock the door. Letting Mel do her business, I lean forward, hands bracing against the sink as I stare at my reflection.

My short, choppy brown hair is a complete disaster, greasy due to a lack of a shower and my usually pale skin appears more pale than usual, dirt and grime across my cheeks and forehead. Black bags signaling exhaustion pull at the bottom of my eyelids, my light hazel-gold eyes bloodshot and tired. Shaking my head, I turn on the water, cupping my hands under the faucet. Splashing water on my face, the cold temperature shocking away a bit of weariness from my mind as my hands grab for the rough, brown paper towels that are really no better than paper bags. Scrubbing at my face, I toss away the rag before scrubbing at my dirty hands, scratching at my skin as if to get rid of the invisible black blood that caked the gloves I had disposed of.

As Mel exits the stall, a gunshot pierces the air and I immediately reach for my own weapon, grabbing Mel's hand. Unlocking the door, I push forward at silent as possible, peering over at the truck. Not seeing Isaac, I step out, tugging Mel along, and catch a glimpse of a scuffle inside the gas station. Instructing Mel to make a run for the truck and get inside, emphasizing the need to lock the doors, I race into the store. Seeing Isaac plunge a knife into the skull of one of those things, I don't pause as a scuffle sounds from behind the counter. Seeing one of the abominations behind the glass, scratching at the barrier keeping it from feasting on any people, I raise my gun as its lips snap at the glass. Pressing the barrel of the gun against the glass, its mouth open and head tilted back, I pull the trigger, watching as black blood and grey matter splatters against the shelves stacked with cigarettes.

Hearing Isaac's familiar footsteps, I instruct him to gather supplies before unlatching the door to the area behind the counter. Grabbing cartons of cigarettes, I turn to the computerized screen of the register. Plugging in sixty dollars worth in gas, I press against the button signaling the start of the pump, making sure to ring it in as cash. Nodding curtly to Isaac who hoists bags of bottled water and food, I slip out from behind the counter I lead the way back to the truck. Hearing the muffled screams from inside the truck, I sneer as I raise my gun, putting a bullet into the brain of one of the things scratching at window of the truck.

Keeping watch as Isaac begins to pump the gas, I jab the blade of a knife into another diseased brain, not waiting as I raise my gun in the opposite direction. Seeing the rotted mouth wrapped around the barrel of my gun, I smirk.

"Sayonara, motherfucker," I growl out, pulling the trigger.

Using the things shirt to wipe the black blood and other fluids from my gun, I release the limp carcass as Isaac shouts for us to get into the truck. Diving into the truck, I am quick to turn the key, speeding out of the gas station. Speeding down the streets with one hand on the wheel, I hear Isaac ask Mel of her well-being as I rip into one of the cartons of cigarettes. Pulling out a pack, I use my teeth to remove the cellophane wrapping, my index finger pulling up the lid of the box. Thumbing out a cigarette, my lips wrap around the filter before I toss the pack to Isaac, my finger digging into the center console for my lighter. Inhaling the nicotine, I let out a tired sigh as my adrenaline slowly fades.

"Aunt Letty?"

Glancing up, seeing the brown eyes of my niece, I offer the girl a small smile, "Yeah, baby girl?"

"How much longer until we're at Daddy's house?"

Nibbling on my bottom lip, I share a glance with Isaac, who shrugs sympathetically, before answering, "Should be there in a couple of hours. Why don't you close your eyes, get some rest?"

It isn't until she is asleep that I feel Isaac's gaze burning a hole into the side of my head, "What?"

"What if Colt isn't...himself?" he questions hesitantly.

Clenching the steering wheel, I flick the ashes of the cigarette through the small, crack in the window, "We won't know until we see it for ourselves. Until then, we believe he is alive and raising some Hell of his own," Meeting his gaze, I smirk, "Come on, bro. This _is_ Colt we're talking about. The guy's too fucking stubborn to die from these things."

Hearing a snort of amused agreement, I turn back to the road.

_'Keep her safe, Charlie. My world would be a lot darker without my Melody.'_

Nodding to the echo of the past, I choke back the emotions that flood with it.

* * *

"Daddy!"

The gun aimed at my forehead drops immediately as the small body of my niece plows into the surprised torso of Colton Livingston. I had never been happier to see bodies lying across the front lawn of my brother's house. Glancing back to see Isaac shutting the gate to the driveway, I give my step-brother a small, tired smile when I feel strong arms wrap around me. With my face pressed against the stern chest of my brother, the comfort and protection surrounding me gives me the incentive to drop my walls. Tears of loss, pain and exhaustion flow from me, my body shuddering into the tight embrace.

"Come on. Let's get you guys inside," Colt whispers as he breaks away from the embrace, lifting his daughter into his arms as he enters the house.

Feeling Isaac drape an arm over my shoulders, I allow myself to be led inside. Nothing is said as I drop my bags to the floor, immediately walking upstairs and stepping into the first bathroom I come across. Turning on the water, I strip myself of my clothing before stepping under the boiling spray. My fingernails dig, scrubbing rough and painfully as I try to push away the picture of Jamie's body. I can't be sure how long I remain in the shower, but a familiar knock sounds against the door before it opens. Seeing Colt's shadow from the other side of the curtain, I rinse away the last of the soap and turn off the water. Hanging my hand out of the curtain, I snatch the robe placed in my hand. Sliding it over my naked body, I carefully step out while grabbing a towel to dry off my hair.

"Isaac told me about Ma, Brian and the kids," Nodding mutely in response, I run the towel over my head, "and that queer friend of yours, Jamie."

Sneering at him, I slam my knuckles against his shoulder, "Shut the fuck up. I walked in on one of those...things devouring his intestines like it was a buffet," I shudder at the memory, "Queer or not, Jamie was a good friend."

"I know," Colt murmurs, his eyes apologetic, "I'm just glad you are safe. Thank you," I blink at the gratitude in his voice, "for saving my baby girl."

"This was the only place I figured we'd get answers from," Giving a pointed glance at the army fatigues he's dressed in.

Colt rubs the back of his neck, nodding, "When Melody goes to sleep. I promise. I will tell you everything I know."

* * *

I don't like his explanation. In fact, I hate it. A viral infection that spreads through the dead? It sounds like something out of a B-rated movie. Isaac and I listen as Colt goes into detail, telling us about how the disease spreads, the danger of these...abominations. Colt is calling them Walkers. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. Head shots are the only way to kill them. He goes into explaining how he had decided to wait it out a week, hoping that we would show, and how he took the time to pack provisions in preparation of a long haul.

"So, where do we go from here?" I ask, not glancing up from sharpening the military-grade knife, my boot-clad feet propped up on the table. "We can't stay here. You know how the government reacts to situations like these."

Glancing up briefly to catch his pained nod, I flash him a sympathetic half-smile as he answers, "We go south. I have a friend that might have an idea of what's going on."

"When?" I question curtly, sheathing the knife before I pluck the butterfly knife off of the table.

Releasing the latch, I flip it open, watching the black blade appear as the bite handle arches around the pivot pins, my fingers wrapping around the safe handle the moment the bite meets it, "I'll give you guys some time to rest up. We'll head out in a few days."

Snorting, I flip the blade closed, _'Well, say good-bye to your old life Charlotte.'_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Before I get readers assuming that Charlie is one of those Mary Sue types, I promise you, she isn't. She can't hunt, barely knows how to fish and she has serious anxiety issues about being around people she doesn't know. She actually hates unneeded violence, but understands that there are times where one must defend themselves. She also lacks what people call a 'verbal filter', so nine times out of ten, she pisses people off without meaning to. I do hope you understand Colt taught Charlie how to defend herself due to his militant background and during her school years. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Feedback is welcomed and creative criticism is appreciated, but insults will be simply ignored. If you don't like the story, they created this cool feature called a 'back page'.

Thanks again!


	2. Part 1-2: Bound

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are formed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out there, but I want to take my shot at it. The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up into different Parts, following the Seasons. This story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me know what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping it as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Two**  
_Bound_

* * *

_(adj) 1. obligated; destined. 2. restricted_

* * *

"There's someone I need to check up on."

Looking up from the book I'm reading, the only way to escape the chaos life has become, cocking an eyebrow at Colt. Nodding for him to continue, I listen as he explains a friend of his being overseas with a wife left here in the states, on this very compound. Hearing as he tells of his promise to his friend and I subtly roll my eyes at my brother's sense of honor before agreeing to go with. Isaac agrees to stay and keep an eye on Mel. It had been a difficult morning for all of us as we tried to explain everything to the young girl. How do you tell a child their family was eaten and infected by Walkers? How do you explain the terror that seems to be spreading through the world? How do you wipe fear from their eyes and keep their hope alive?

Even when your own is fading quick.

Belting a knife against my hip and one against the outside of my opposing thigh, I collect my gun, shuddering at the feel of it in my hands. I hate this more than most can understand. I've never been a fan of guns, but Colt always insisted I learn to use one and keep it available if the need ever rose. Boy was it needed. Shaking the thoughts from my head, I check the clip before slapping it back into the chamber with a click before leaving the room. I remain silent as Colt hands me two extra magazines, which I slip into the pocket of my cargo pants. I had to get rid of my jeans, the rips and blackened blood bringing back the memories of Jamie's death.

"We're going on foot, try to conserve gas," Colt states as we quietly slip outside.

Instead of taking the streets, Colt and I go through the age-old tradition of fence-jumping. Silently following Colt up and over a fence only to land solidly on the other side, we book it through the yard. Recalling Colt saying to avoid Walkers to the best of our ability, unless they are in our way or close enough to be a threat, I feel my mind travel back to when our hometown was ravaged by the Livingston Siblings. A small, half-smile tugs at my lips, remembering Colt's curses when he, in the midst of being distracted, had hopped into the wrong yard with the wrong damn dog. I had been rooting for the dog.

Hearing a curse from the other side of the fence, followed by a thump, I react immediately as I grab the top of the fence, pulling myself up to crouch on the thick rail. Seeing Colt busy knifing a Walker and not seeing the other approaching, I remove the knife from the sheath at my hip as I launch myself off the fence. Ignoring the blackened blood and dying groan, I remove the knife from its head and search for Colt, only to see him up and over the next fence. Shaking my head at my brother's stupidity, I follow after him.

Five blocks down and ten Walkers later, I land in a yard to see Colt approach the back door. Hearing a signature knock, I turn to keep a look out for any Walkers, my ears perking up as the door opens and a sobbing woman collapses tiredly in Colt's arms. Standing straight, I watch her wearily as we are invited inside. Remaining silent, I replace my knife into its sheath as Colt and this woman talk, the woman's voice frantic and hurried compared to Colt's calm, reserved voice. Watching as he instructs her to stay here while he goes to pack up her niceties, I bite on the inside of his cheek as her gaze lands on me. She seems surprised by my presence and I watch as a smile appears on her face, my fingers tapping against the top of my thigh, foot bouncing with unease.

I've always had a problem with meeting new people. Ma used to tell me I have anxiety issues. I never had the heart to tell her it wasn't because of my brain. Growing up with an older brother and all of his friends, I was not like other girls. I wrestled, played football, watched sports and other 'boy' things. As I grew older, other girls didn't like that so much. Most called me a whore. Some called me a dike. I can't be sure which is worse. I don't know how many times I was shoved in the halls of school, one time even tripped while going down the stairs. I allowed Ma to believe different. I could handle it and I did.

It did leave an impression though.

"You must be Charlotte?" Hearing the soft voice, I blink out of my memories and shift at the attention I'm receiving.

Rubbing the back of my neck, my eyes glancing around nervously, hoping that Colt doesn't take forever, "Charlie," She tilts her head in confusion and I clear my throat, "I go by Charlie."

The woman nods in understanding, "Well, it's nice to finally meet you. Colton speaks about you a lot. He says you and your mother split up taking care of Melody." I nod curtly, the tapping of my fingers causing my nerves to grow tighter with each passing moment, "I think it is admirable for you to devote your time to taking care of your niece. I'm Natasha, by the way, Natasha Summerfield." I nod again at her extended hand, looking away from the expected handshake, "So...Colton said you are a tattoo artist?"

"I was," Inwardly, I wince at the monotony of my voice, my nerves scratching under the surface of my skin.

"How did you get into-"

My nerves snap, the words leaving my lips before I can stop them, "Do you ever shut the fuck up?" Her eyes widen dramatically, "No offense, Lady, but this isn't exactly the best time to exchange our life stories," Kicking my boot-clad foot against the wall, I glare up at the ceiling, "Dude, Colt, can we move the fuck on?"

"First of all," My gaze turns to see Colt coming into the kitchen, "You need to chill the fuck out. Nat is only trying to be friendly," I snort, remembering the last time I let someone get 'friendly', "I can't leave her behind, so you're gonna have to get used to her being around."

"Fan-fucking-tastic," I drawl out, rolling my eyes as I shake away the nerves in my body, "Can we go?"

Inhaling deeply at the door, I wait for Colt's signal before nodding, watching as he bolts out the door. Natasha follows with me taking up the rear, having a feeling that this woman isn't quite versed in protecting herself. Taking to the streets, ducking through alleyways, I try not to wince as Natasha lets out a choked squeak when we come across a trio of Walkers. Nodding to Colt that tugs the woman along, I remove the knife sheathed at my thigh, before snapping my arm forward. Pleased when the blade pierces through the back of one of their heads, I brandish my other knife, driving it in and upward through the eye-socket of another. Grunting as I yank the blade free, I tense at the groaning sound behind me, my hand flipping over the knife before I turn, burying it into the side of its head. Collecting my other knife, I panic at the sight of Walkers approaching and I take off in a burst of adrenaline. Legs burning with excursion, I duck around another alley, the gravel under my boots causing me to stumble. Wincing as the heels of my palms scrape along the ground, tiny pebbles embedding into my skin, I scramble back to my feet. Without a second thought, I sprint head-first toward a wooden fence, yelping when a hand grips my pant leg. Pulling against the hold, trying not to shriek as I feel more hands grabbing at my clothes, I kick my foot back, hearing a satisfying crunch before one of the hands lets go. Struggling to get at my knife, I let out a relieved sigh before reaching back around, plunging the blade into the top of a head, placing all of my weight against the pulling hands.

Vertigo hits me as the hands release my clothes, the weight of my pulling forcing my body to flip over the fence. Slamming into the ground, I let out a cough as air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. Leaning against the fence, I remove my gun from my pocket as I try to catch my breath, the familiar shuffling sound following the stench of death leading me to lift the gun. As blackened blood and grey matter splatters against the side of a house, I push up against the fence, pulling the trigger as another Walker stumbles out of the archway of the opened back door. Feeling my heart race, I ignore the pain in my body as I push myself up the adjacent fence, thankful when I finally land in Colt's yard. Groaning as I push my way into the house, I ignore the gun pointing at my head as my knees give out, a hiss escaping me as my hands catch my fall, reminding me of the small scrapes along my palms.

"Damn it, Charlie!"

I snort dryly as Colt and Isaac move to help me to my feet, my chest heaving for oxygen, "Have...I...ever...told...you...that...I...hate...running?"

Isaac lets out a laugh, clapping me on my back as I shrug off their help. Mumbling about washing up, I nod as Colt tells me we're leaving in ten minutes. Climbing up the stairs, I quickly wash my hands, hissing as the cold water stings against the abrasions. Nothing I haven't dealt with before, growing up with an older brother and all that, but scrapes on the hands usually end up being a royal pain in the ass. Picking the little pebbles out of my skin, I shake my hands dry before gathering whatever I need from my room.

"Where are we heading?" Natasha asks as we pack up the boxes of provisions Isaac had busily been making up over the last few days.

Pushing my bike to the side of the truck, I wiggle my fingers in Mel's direction, earning a small giggle from my niece. Straddling the bike, I listen as Colt explains heading south, toward Florida. Rolling my eyes as I realize who he means to meet up with, I yank my helmet over my head, giving Colt a mocking salute as he orders me to be careful. Chuckling at the middle finger I receive, I rev the engine as Colt activates the electronics of the gate. Cringing as my step-father's truck barrels over and through a small herd of Walkers, I follow through the break in the group before speeding around the side of the truck. Thankful not to have to sit through Natasha's insistent chatter, I weave around broken down cars and nameless bodies lying in the street.

* * *

"Good Lord it's hot out here."

I snort as Natasha's voice comes through the open window of the truck, the engine turned off to conserve what little gas we have left as we find ourselves parked in traffic. Apparently there was a nationwide announcement for people to head into major cities for help and evacuation. Apparently this disease is spreading faster than doctors can try and treat it. Digging through the box labeled 'canned goods' in the familiar chicken-scratch my brother calls handwriting, I manage to find cans of ravioli. Pulling the tab on the lid, I shove a plastic fork into the open can and extend it through the small, opening along the back window. Smiling at Melody as she cheers, I glance over at Isaac, cocking an eyebrow to which he nods wordlessly, a thankful smile on his lips as I pass him one as well.

"Gross. It isn't even cooked."

"Then you can fucking starve," I snap, the heat blaring down on the back of my neck increasing my impatience with this woman.

Ignoring the offended look from her and the glare I see in the reflection of the rear-view mirror from Colt, I pass two more cans and plastic forks forward. Standing upright, I stretch my arms over my head, cracking my back again. Turning my head, the joints along my neck popping with the movement, I see sorrowful blue eyes staring at the can in my hand. Nibbling on my bottom lip, I sigh inwardly before hopping down from the bed of the truck. Knocking on the window of the jeep, I ignore the way the driver's brown eyes sweep over the array of colorful ink along my upper arm before the window is rolled down.

"Can we help you?" the man bites out, suspicious gleam flashing through his eyes.

Glancing over the brown shirt, spotting the police insignia along the left side of his chest, I can only hope the sarcastic response threatening to escape doesn't show on my face as I flash him a half-smile, "The kid in the back seat looks like he might be hungry," I state, extending the can of ravioli and a plastic fork, "I'm afraid I don't have water to spare."

The man appears shocked, but I am saved from saying something smug as the woman in the passenger seat leans over, a thankful look in her eye, "Thank you."

Hoping my nervousness doesn't show as I nod my head curtly, handing over the canned food and give a small, honest, smile to the boy in the back seat. Hopping back onto the bed of the truck, I shrug nonchalantly at the questioning brown eyes reflected back at me. Seeing the proud smile on Colt's face, I look away, rubbing at the back of my neck as I search for something else to eat. Seeing a simple protein bar, I tear at the wrapper and swallow it down. Locating the bag I stored my sketch book in, I remove the leather-bound book and flip through the pages, my opposing hand locating a pencil. Sitting on the tailgate of the truck, my fingers begin dragging the pencil along the paper with a gentle, easy flourish.

* * *

The sound of military-grade helicopters from above pulls my gaze away from my activity. Scrambling to my feet, I knock on the roof of the truck, but Colt is already opening the door, stepping down to the street. Tension fills me as distant sounds of gunfire and screams seem to echo down the highway before shouts of worry and dismay echoes from the gridlock. Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I glance over to see a darkened look on Colt's face. Catching his eye, I nibble on my bottom lip as he drops his gaze and climbs back into the truck. A sound from my right causes me to look over as the officer climbs out of the jeep, his attention shifting between the sounds of a ravaged city, panic coming from the vehicles and the other occupants of the car.

"Hey, Officer!" I fight back a snort as Isaac calls out through his open window, earning an annoyed look at the cynical tone, "Don't you think since you're under oath to _protect and serve_ that it might be best if you try to get people to calm down?" The officer glares pointedly at Isaac, who waves dismissively at the look, "Hey, all I'm saying is that it would help if we can get off the street and find somewhere to rest for the night."

Leave it to Isaac to come up with a decent plan. Shaking my head at my step-brother, I tense when the officer turns his gaze on me. I can see the indecisive look in his eyes, obviously trying to come up with a plan. It isn't until I see him glance at my bike that I realize he's struggling to ask for help. Ha! The arrogance and pride of Man.

"Instead of staring, why don't you spit it out," I sneer reflexively, "Despite what Isaac thinks, I can't actually read minds."

The man visibly swallows back his pride, "I'm Officer Shane Walsh."

"Congratulations," I respond dryly, hearing a muffled chuckle from Isaac when the officer's eyebrow twitches.

Seeing him take a deep breath, I cock an eyebrow, waiting rather impatiently, "Your bike can easily maneuver through traffic. Do you think you can go through and see if anyone knows the area well enough. Maybe some kind of camp ground."

Isaac and Colt immediately tense, but seeing the heat-exhausted Melody and the boy in the back seat of the Jeep, I groan at the code of ethics drilled into my brain. Nodding curtly, I toss my sketch book back into the bag and hop down from the truck. Snapping up the tailgate, I turn and find my gaze inches from my brother's chest, his eyes stern, but concerned.

"Don't worry. I'll be as quick about it as possible," I state, rolling my eyes as Isaac slides out of the truck, intending to come with me.

Turning back to the officer, I nibble on the inside of my cheek before swallowing back my nerves, "Look, I'm not going to waste the gas when I can walk. Maybe you should do the same thing, only that way," I feel the sarcasm bleed through my words as I point in the opposite direction, "Come on, Isaac."

Digging out my pack of smokes, I ignore the disgusted noise from Natasha, as I light one up before following after Isaac. Thankfully Isaac is able to do most of the talking. Sticking to the vehicles furthest to the right of the highway, I watch as Isaac pauses at an RV with an old man inside. Listening to Isaac stutter at the sight of the blonde teenager that pops the door open, I shake my head. Out of the corner of my eye, my gaze lands on a beat-up blue truck. Seeing the various hunting equipment stashed in the bed of the truck alongside the motorcycle, I glance back to see Isaac blushing as he rubs the back of his neck. Swallowing back the nervous tension, I inhale deeply before approaching the truck.

Behind the wheel, I spy a man with unkempt brown hair glaring at the traffic and distant city. Seeing him chewing at his thumbnail as he turns his attention to the older man in the passenger seat. Taking another drag from the cigarette, thankful for the nicotine's effect, I clear my throat. Sharp blue eyes glare in my direction and I glance back to the distracted Isaac.

"What?"

Glancing back at the brown-haired man, I shift my weight carefully, the fingers not gripping the cigarette tapping against my thigh, "Sorry to bother you, but my brother and I are trying to figure out if there is any kind of...camp ground around here."

"What makes ya think I know?"

"I don't know much about hunting, but I know the equipment when I see it," I respond, feeling my throat begin to close up as I point at the bed of his truck.

Watching as his thumb drops from his mouth, murmuring something to the half-coherent man in the passenger seat, I try to fight back the nerves ravaging my body. Why couldn't Isaac stop being a fucking guy for five minutes? I curse, wincing visibly when those sharp blue eyes turn back to me.

"There's a camping spot in a nearby quarry," he states, jabbing his thumb backwards, "'Bout twenty miles back, off road."

Thankfully bowing my head, I turn to leave when I spy this thumb once again coming back to his mouth. Must be a habit. Patting my pockets, I find my pack of smokes, and spy about half of them remaining. Turning back to the man, I ignore the way his eyes widen briefly as I offer him the rest of the pack.

"I ain't takin' yer shit."

Glaring at his piss-poor attitude, I toss the pack through the window, his gaze dropping to them as they land between him and his passenger, "Tough shit. Thanks for the info."

Turning on heel, I feel my nerves slowly relax with each step back to the truck. Ignoring the blonde girl in the RV, I reach out and grab Isaac by the back of his shirt, dragging him with me. Sneering at the annoyed glare he shoots me, I shove my hands into the pockets of my cargo pants, wordlessly telling him to fuck off. Hearing the huff from my left, I roll my eyes as we approach the truck, spotting Officer Dickhead approaching.

Oh yeah. My nerves are on fire.

"Some guy said there's a camp ground about twenty miles back that way," I point in the direction, "Said it's in a quarry and off the main road."

Not bothering to stick around for a 'thank you', I turn my bike around, maneuvering it between cars before I am along the shoulder of the road. Glancing back to see Colt give me a pointed look, I snap him a salute before patting the knife sheathed at my hip. Turning the key, I pull up the kickstand, revving the engine enough to cause the bike to speed forward. Seeing a sign marking the way to the quarry, I turn onto the off-ramp and speed down the winding road. Spotting the shimmering water at the bottom of the quarry, I locate a clearing before parking the bike. Thankful for the silence, not even the familiar shuffling footsteps can be heard, I lean against the handlebars of the bike. The irritation from having to hear Natasha's constant bitching, not really understanding why someone would marry such a nag, mixed with my nervous tension and the Georgian heat is becoming too much.

* * *

"Alright. I know everyone is confused right now, but we must remain calm and wait out for any news from the city," I roll my eyes as Officer Dickhead immediately takes charge, his speech drowning into the back of my head.

Hearing the occasional snort from Colt as he and Isaac set up a large tent, I glance down at Mel, rocking her gently as her eyes grow heavier with each passing moment. Brushing her wheat-gold hair out of her face, I smile softly as her eyes blink up at me tiredly.

"I'm scared," she whispers, never having once been camping outdoors before.

I giggle softly, tapping the top of her nose with my index finger, "Don't you worry. Your Daddy and I are going to stay up, keep an eye on the rest of you while you sleep. Now, go to sleep Bright-Eyes."

Watching her nod tiredly, I rock gently as she slowly closes her eyes. Feeling her body go slack, I look up at the darkening sky only to see the brown-haired woman from earlier approaching with the boy in tow. Biting my tongue as they pause a few feet away, I try not to allow my nervous disposition show.

"Hi," the woman greets with a warm smile and I nod slowly, unsure of what she wants, "My son would like to say something."

I bite the inside of my cheek, unable to stop the small twitch along my lips as the boy ducks his head, avoiding the stern gaze of his mother. With his head bowed, I barely catch a murmur of words which earns him a light smack across the back of his head, his mother immediately telling him to stand straight and speak up. The blush staining his cheeks is adorable as he looks up, shifting slightly.

"Thank you," Tilting my head, my eyebrows knitting together in confusion, his mother nudges him, giving him a pointed look, "Uh...thank you for...the ravioli."

Realizing the context of the situation, I nod carefully, "No problem kid. Looked like you needed it more than I did."

The boy nods abashed before turning to scramble back to the officer, but instead of following the woman turns back to me, "My name is Lori. I really appreciate what you did."

"No problem," I mumble out, and at the familiar look in her eye, I roll my eyes, "Charlie," A quirk of the eyebrow causes me to wonder if this woman is stupid, "My name is Charlie."

"Oh. That's an odd name for a girl like yourself."

"I could say the same for you," I respond curtly, trying with all my power to not snap on the woman.

She smiles anxiously, as if not sure of how to approach me, "You're daughter is beautiful."

"She's my niece," I shoot back, my irritation growing tighter along my shoulders, "and if you don't mind, I just managed to get her to close her eyes."

I try not to feel a sense of pride at the affronted look on her face as I wiggle my fingers in a dismissive manner. I honestly wonder how many times I have to verbally lash out before people get a clue. Watching the pretty brunette stalk off to the officer and her son, I snort to my own thoughts as I slide down from the tailgate of the truck. Smiling softly at Colt's tired smile of thanks, I tuck Mel into her sleeping bag and brush away her bangs once more before slipping out of the tent.

"Dude," I snap gently, shoving my brother's arm, "Get some sleep. You look like shit." Hearing a muttered 'how rude' from Natasha, I glare, my irritation at its peak, "Oi, I didn't ask your fucking opinion," I hiss, hoping not to attract attention, "You better get used to it, sweetheart, cause we might be here for awhile."

Wanting to cool down, I turn on heel and find Isaac helping the young blonde teen from earlier and another blonde, who might be related to her, set up. Seeing the small laughter, I muse over the easy mannerisms Isaac maintains. The world could collapse around us and he'd still find something to laugh about. Turning away from the sight, I stretch my arms over my head only to hear a voice from above offer a greeting. Looking up to the old man sitting on top of the RV, the easy expression on his features reminding me of my Papaw, who passed away during my school years.

"If you want, you are more than welcome to join me up here."

Nibbling on my bottom lip, I tilt my head, "Can I smoke up there?"

Shrugging when he nods his head, I climb up the ladder and instead of facing the camp of strangers, I face the towering incline of the quarry. I'm thankful when the man seems to understand my need for silence. Laying back across the roof, I stare up as the stars slowly appear, a ring of smoke leaving my lips. I know there will come a time where I will have to scavenge for more smokes, but I push back the thought, my mind begins to relax as I mildly wonder if Colt would be pissed if I accidentally shot Natasha. Snorting to myself, my gaze follows the smoke as it drifts into the air.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Well, that's this chapter. Thank you for reading. I hope you can understand Charlie's constant struggle between trying to do what is right while fighting back her anxiety issues. Please leave a review and let me know what you think.

**Reviewers:**

_**Ravenclaw Slytherin**: _Thank you for reviewing!

**Followers**:

Freckles the Wanderer  
Ravenclaw Slytherin


	3. Part 1-3: Crux

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are formed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out there, but I want to take my shot at it. The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up into different Parts, following the Seasons. This story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me know what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping it as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Three**  
_Crux_

* * *

_(n) 1. a vital, basic, decisive, or pivotal point. 2. a cross. 3. something that torments by its puzzling nature; a perplexing difficulty._

* * *

"There you are," Glancing away from the rocky terrain of the quarry, I spy Colt pulling himself up the ladder of the RV.

Taking the empty space beside me, Colt allows his position to mimic mine, his legs dangling over the edge. Pleased that he appears to be well-rested, because let's face it. Colt is an ass when he loses sleep for days on end. Taking a drag from my cigarette, I give my brother a mute smile as I turn my gaze back to watching the sun peak over the horizon, the sound of people slowly rousing for the day's activities marking the beginnings of a new day.

"Are you doing okay?" I shrug, not sure how to answer that, or if the question itself is rhetorical. "Nat says you've been...irritable, especially toward her."

Snorting, I flash my brother a smirk, "I'm not going to get offended if you use the word 'bitch' and, for the record, I've tried telling her to give me some space." As he shakes his head at me, I roll my eyes, "Why don't you tell me the real reason you came up here to bother me?"

"There's this Asian kid that said there are small, suburban towns along the outskirts of the city that should be easy to get in and out of for supplies. A lot of these people don't have proper shelter and the group itself is getting low on supplies. We're going to see if we can't collect enough supplies for everyone."

My shoulders tense as his words wash over me, "We? What do you mean we?"

Colt offers me a small shrug, "The Asian kid isn't going to be able to gather everything on his own. Isaac and I agreed to join in the run."

"Always the fucking bleeding heart, aren't you?" I sigh out, my words lacking any serious bite as I offer him a half-smile. "Just...promise me you won't leave me surrounded by these people?"

Colt snickers, shoving my shoulder playfully, "You can count on it."

Flicking my cigarette in the small stretch of gravel road, I push off of the RV, landing on the ground below in a crouch. Heading back to the tent, I check our belongings. Locating a pen, I rip a small paper out of a notebook before jotting down a few words. Exiting the tent, I groan when the top of my head connects with Isaac's bony shoulder. Rubbing my head, I give him a small glare before handing him the paper. His eyes drop down, skimming over the items before he flashes me a smile, nodding curtly. Giving him a mocking salute, I slip back into the tent to get ready for another hot Georgian day.

Dressed in a pair cargo pants, the material thin enough to breathe properly, and a black halter top, I duck out of the tent once more. Seeing the truck gone, along with Isaac and Colt, I run a hand through my messy, short brown hair. Gazing around the camp ground, I feel whatever relaxation flee from my nerves as I catch sight of Natasha pulling Mel away from a brown-haired man. The same brown-haired man from the blue truck. Inhaling deeply, I approach the woman tugging my niece by the arm.

"If you don't let go of her, I can promise Walkers will be the least of your worries," I wince at the monotony of my voice as I watch the woman freeze, Mel's gaze meeting my own as she stops trying to pull away from Natasha.

"You mean you are okay with Melody hanging around a ruffian like this?" Natasha sneers, motioning to the glaring man with her hand. Not bothering to respond, I earn a scoff from the woman, "Of course you are. Why am I not surprised? You don't care about anything. You're a bitch every moment of the day. I mean, you didn't even say goodbye to your own brothers. Why those two adore you so much, I will never know."

"I didn't ask you to list my finer personality traits," I retort, earning a glare, "I didn't even _ask_ you to let Mel go. I am _telling_ you to do so. I can respect my brother's sense of honor, but that's about all you are in my book."

Natasha gives me a final glare before letting go of Mel's arm. Following her as she stomps off back to the tent, I let out a sigh, sinking into a crouch before the blonde child. Dropping a small kiss to her forehead, my fingers brush her wheat-colored bangs from her face as I check her over for any bruises. Nodding to myself, I tap the girl on the tip of her nose, earning a giggle.

"Now, listen to me, baby girl," At the nod, I continue, "You know I have no problem with you wandering around the camp, but you need to tell _me_ where you are. You have to be careful. Not everyone is going to be nice to a pretty girl like you," Mel's eyes drop to the ground, but I give her a small tut as I tap her chin, getting her gaze to lift, "I'm not upset with you. You're smart for your age. I just want you to play safe, understand?"

"Yes, Auntie Letty."

Smiling softly at the beautiful child, I kiss her forehead again before nodding in the direction of the small boy, "Why don't you go ask if that boy wants to play?" Watching as she nods, running off to the brown-haired kid, I shake my head at the naivety of children before turning my attention back to the man. His shoulders tense and his eyes darken and I muse over how to approach the situation, "I hope she wasn't bothering you," His head tilts at my words, as if he is unsure of my intentions, "She's as curious as a kitten most of the time."

"Ain't no bother, really," his gruff voice states, a one-shouldered shrug tossed in for effect, "Quiet kid, actually. Asked a few questions, but quiet. She always watch people like that?"

"Yeah. She's done it...forever, really," I state, throwing a glance over my shoulder as I try to avoid the icy blue gaze, "Thanks. For letting her watch you do...whatever it is you are doing."

"Bolts," He responds, waving one in my direction, but I shake my head, unsure of what he is talking about, "Fer my crossbow. Said she ain't ever seen sumone that hunts."

I snort, "Yes she has. She just hasn't ever spoken to someone that does. Not much of a hunting family."

I muse over why I am talking. It isn't that my nerves are relaxed. As a matter of fact, my nerves are on fire. Maybe it's the way he is quick responsive, quick to the point, no sugar coating or embellishment. It makes it easier when people are direct with their intentions. Besides, Melody is a smart kid. She wouldn't have been watching a man that is a 'ruffian'.

"Well, I'm going to head back to the tent," I jab my thumb in the direction of the tent, "Try to find a smoke, or something. Maybe read a book. Thanks again for letting Mel hang around you."

"No problem," he replies. I nod, turning to head back to the tent, "Still have some of the smokes ya threw at me, if ya want one." Stopping in my tracks, I feel my shoulders tense as my brain runs through the scenario. "Y'don hafta talk if ya don't want," He notices? Quirking an eyebrow, I glance back at the man, "Noticed ya only seem comfortable 'round those brothers of yers. When people try to talk to ya, ya get all...tense. Like a wolf cornered er sumthin."

Nibbling on my bottom lip, I glance down at the offer cigarette and nod reluctantly. Lighting up the cigarette, the nicotine races through my veins almost instantly, the tension releasing from my muscles. Yes. Such a bad habit, but it's the only thing that has kept me from completely flipping out. Alcohol too, but the aftermath is less than pleasant. Looking over the man, who returns back to sharpening the tip of the bolt, I feel my head tilt the slightest bit as I observe him. He's handsome, in a rugged, 'roughin' it' way. His hair is a dark brown, but I can see the slightest hints of a lighter shade of brown among the mess of hair framing his face. His face is long, but rounded, the masculine jawline set in an almost permanent scowl. His facial hair seems to only decorate the skin around his lips and chin, leaving his cheeks smooth, and I spot a small, dark mole settled a few spaces off the left side of his lips. I can tell he's a man of heavy labor, the muscles along his arms and shoulders indicating a consistent use of the muscles.

"Yer kid get her starin' problem from yerself?"

Blinking out of my observation, I shake my head, "She's my niece."

"She looks at ya like yer her mother," the man states, his blue eyes glance up from his work before dropping again.

Instead of denying the idea, I nod slowly, "My brother was stationed overseas when she was born. His wife passed away a few hours later. He was able to schedule leave of absence so he can attend her funeral and I offered to take care of her."

"Is that where ya get that attitude from?" he asks, and if I was anyone other than myself, I would have missed the tease tilt to his otherwise bored tone.

"Yes, and at the same time, no," I shrug at his cocked eyebrow, "Colt and I were close when we were growing up. Most of my attitude has been carefully and expertly molded due to the arrogance of other people. It's not...easy. Meeting new people. At least, not for me."

"Can honestly say, I never had a woman throw a pack of smokes at me," the man chuckles lowly.

My lips twitch despite my nerves. Odd.

"Charlotte," I curse as the tension snaps along my body again, my glare turning to Natasha, "The other women are talking about taking the kids down to the lake to bathe."

Standing up from the ground, I brush off my pants as I toss the spent cigarette into the fire pit, "Alright. Could of sworn I told you no one actually calls me Charlotte."

Sauntering off with a lazy wave in the hunter's direction, I ignore Natasha's mumbles about my 'bad attitude' as I head over to Mel. Waving the girl over, I slip into the tent and change into a pair of cotton shorts before gathering Mel a change of clothes. Shoving a sheathed knife inside my boot, letting it rest against my leg, I catch sight of Mel giggling with Carl. Letting out a whistle, I ignore the glares sent to me when Mel immediately perks up and waves good-bye to Carl. Taking her by the hand, I head along the path leading to the lake, nodding briefly to the brown-haired hunter. Never did get his name.

* * *

After managing to dig out my last cigarette, I sit on a large rock along the shoreline, watching as Mel splashes and giggles as she plays with the brown-haired boy, Carl, and a slightly older blonde girl, Sophia. Seeing the light in their eyes and hearing the laughter ring through the air, I feel a smile tug at my lips. I like kids. May not be able to have any of my own, but I like kids. Kids don't lie, and when they do, it shows all over their faces. Kids really don't have the capacity to hate. I wish more people had the same outlook on life as children do. The world would have been easier to handle.

And kid's also don't glare at the back of someone's head.

"Is there a reason why you're staring?" I ask, the fingers of my left hand tapping against my knee as I take a drag from the cigarette.

Not hearing anything, I see that Lori woman shift her weight nervously, as if unsure how to approach me. As expected, Natasha is quick to step forward, "She thinks it's disturbing that you have Melody trained like a dog."

"The only dog I've seen around here is you," I remark dryly, turning my attention back to the kids. "If you must know, we used to play 'Spies' and used whistling as a 'secret code'."

Looking back over, I see Lori's eyes flicker with surprise before she smiles softly, "That's so sweet." I nod mutely, watching her eyes run over the ink along my upper arm, "I heard Isaac say the both of you were tattoo artists. How did you get into that field?"

Swallowing back the reflexive response to tell her to 'fuck off', I shrug, "Got my first one," I lean back, lifting the bottom of my shirt to show her the orange-yellow hibiscus flower tattooed along my left hip, half of it hidden by the waistband of my shorts, "when I was sixteen. I had always been interest in art before that, but never really knew what to do with it. Turned eighteen, began an apprenticeship at a local parlor and few years later, saved up enough money for my own shop."

Lori smiles again, nodding her head, "I'm horrible with needles."

I snort, rolling my eyes at the constant response, "Believe me, it doesn't hurt nearly as much as people think it does. Some places are more sensitive than others, but it isn't much."

"I used to manage a local bar," Lori says, sinking down to sit on a large rock a short distance away, "Isaac told us about your family when we were talking last night around the campfire," I turn my gaze back to the splashing kids, "I'm sorry. He said you and your mother were close."

"My mother was my best friend," I admit, not at all ashamed by it like most people would be, "Asshole father took off when Colt and I were kids without so much as a goodbye. Mom struggled for awhile, but she never made either of us feel as though we were liabilities. Never really mattered how much trouble Colt and I got into with local police, you know, kids being kids." Lori chuckles, nodding her head in understanding, "She accepted that I'm not good with people," I can feel the questioning glance burn into the side of my head and shrug in response, "Other people thought I was depressed or something. Mom just thought I had anxiety issues. Surprisingly, she wasn't that far off."

"If you have trouble with people, then why are you talking to her?" Natasha's voice cuts in, "I've known you for a week and you've been nothing but a self-righteous bitch."

"Now, Nat, none of that is necessary," A different woman, her hair practically shaved, tuts.

"Are you kidding me?" Natasha screeches, causing me to wince, my pinkie finger moving to dig at the ringing in my ear, "She's rude. She doesn't give a damn about anyone but herself. She walks around acting like the world owes her something."

Finally tired of the belittling words, I uncurl my fingers, relaxing as I move to my feet, arms stretching over my head before I turn to her, "I speak to her because she doesn't look at my piercings or tattoos and immediately plaster a fake smile on her face," Rubbing at the tension in my shoulder, I turn my neck sideways, feeling the subtle pops, "Yes, I'm rude, but I don't walk around pretending to be something I'm not. I don't care what people think, least of all people like you. If I didn't give a damn about anyone but myself, _you_ wouldn't even be here right now," Natasha's eyes widen as I take a step forward, her body immediately backing away like I expected her to, "So, do everyone a favor and mind your own fucking business."

"Colton would have come for me either way," Natasha shoots back.

"Will you stop calling him Colton?" I snap, trying to keep my shaking nerves unnoticeable. "_Colt_ wouldn't have attempted it if we hadn't shown up. He's not going to risk his life for someone like you at the expense of losing his daughter. Your _husband_ might have been a good friend of his, but don't speak of him as if you have a fucking clue."

"Woah, ladies, let's calm down," I growl as Officer Dickhead appears in the area, moving to stand between us, "What's the problem here?"

"She's a lunatic!"

I hiss, "And you are fucking artificial!"

"What the hell does that even mean?"

I smirk, enjoying the fact that this bitch is so easy to get under her skin, "Sorry. I forgot words with more than four syllables don't register in the space between your ears."

"Hey!" Shane's voice cuts in loudly when Natasha jumps forward as if to hit me.

Not even flinching, I slide my hands into the pockets of my shorts, shrugging my shoulder nonchalantly, "Hey nothing, Officer. I was having a nice little chat with Lori here and this...thing," I nod my head in the direction of the flailing woman, "just started insulting me for no apparent reason." Without waiting for a response, I let out a whistle, watching as Mel immediately pauses in her playing to say goodbye to the other kids.

Fucking whore, I inwardly sneer as I lead Mel back up to camp.

"Auntie Letty?"

"Yes, Bright-Eyes?"

"I don't like that mean woman."

Walking back into camp, I look down at the blonde child holding my hand and can't help the laugh that leaves my lips, my hand ruffling her hair, "Oh, you are definitely a Livingston."

"Can I go sit by Mr. Daryl?" she asks.

Tilting my head, wondering who 'Mr. Daryl' is, I follow the direction of her finger to see the brown-haired hunter gutting what looked like squirrels, "As long as you don't bother him. Okay? Stay where I can see you."

Watching her excitingly greet the hunter, who looks up as if surprised she was there, I shake my head. His gaze immediately shoots up, looking around the grounds before landing on me. Giving him a slow, easy nod, he quirks an eyebrow in return, raising the disemboweled squirrel in his hands. Smirking, I nod my head at the kid and shrug, indicating that I had no clue. Surprisingly, my wordless response earns me a smirk and a subtle shaking of his head before he turns his attention back to Mel.

Daryl, huh?

* * *

Hours pass and I find myself sitting on a blanket spread out in front of the opening of the tent. Mel's curtain of wheat-gold hair pools over my bare legs, my fingers threading through it gently as I escape the surrounding reality with one of my books. Like I said. I've always been an avid reader. Hearing the familiar rumble of the truck's engine, I glance up just as the truck comes to a stop at the edge of camp. Mel's head immediately perks up and a squeal leaves her lips as she tears across the camp grounds. I snicker as Mel plows headfirst into Colt, who barely stepped down from the truck, my teasing smile softening at the sight. Closing my book, I toss it to the side before offering to help distribute tents and an assortment of other items and provisions. Seeing Isaac give me a subtle wink before disappearing into our tent, I giggle inwardly.

The world is falling to shit, but somethings just can't be changed.

Passing by the tent owned by the hunter, I offer him some of the provisions, but he shakes his head, " I don't need any of that shit." Realizing he very well might be one of those 'live off the land' types, I bow my head and turn to head back, "Anyone ever tell ya, yer niece is an odd one?"

"You don't say?" The sarcasm flows easily, the banter so familiar that my heart clenches.

"Never seen a little girl actually 'oh' and 'ah' over sumone guttin' a furry critter."

Swallowing back the remorse, I nod, pasting on a small smile, "The girl's a Livingston. Not exactly the average brand of normal."

Hearing the chuckle, I wave lazily as I move to the next family. I've only ever met one person that finds my sarcastic, biting and sometimes vicious words to be amusing. I've only ever met one person that has commented on the oddity in the behavior of a Livingston. I've only ever met one person that takes the banter easily, ignoring any insults and finding the humor underneath.

And I drove a blade through his skull.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I'm trying to get Charlie more...acclimated to the camp and it will take time before she begins actually connecting with people on an emotional level. The argument between Charlie and Natasha is only one of the few that will happen in the story as they are so blatantly different from each other. **

**Dhalia89: Aw...thanks. I'm trying to make her believable. After the bullying she dealt with during her school years, there are many different ways she has difficulty connecting with people. Talking is only the first part of it.**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: Thanks again!**

**Pein's Kid: lol...I'm glad you love it.**

**For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:**

**Freckles the Wanderer  
Paper Grenade  
Pein's Kid  
Ravenclaw Slytherin  
**

**Leave a review and let me know what you think! Next Chapter: What did Charlie ask Isaac to grab? Will Colt find out about the fight between Natasha and Charlie? How will he react? Will Charlie ever view Shane as anything other than Officer Dickhead? Will this author ever get another cupcake? Who knows!**

**Apologies...RandomNormality is hyper after a rather long night of...well...let's just say I felt like Glenn this morning after the gang spends the night at the CDC.**


	4. Part 1-4: Deliverance

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are formed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out there, but I want to take my shot at it. The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up into different Parts, following the Seasons. This story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me know what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping it as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Four**  
_Deliverance_

* * *

_(n) 1. Liberation_

* * *

"Alright, I-Suck," I snicker at the glare I receive from my step-brother, "Where do you want it?"

From the soft chuckles echoing behind me, I realize Colt must have witnessed whatever reaction my words earned from other camp members. Glancing up from the briefcase I tugged out of the tent, I see that the other refugees have, indeed, misinterpreted my words. Rolling my eyes, I cuff Colt along the back of his head as I plop down on the blanket. Looking away from the audience we gained, I cock an eyebrow at the blushing Isaac. Sending a pointed glare, I feel a vague sense of satisfaction as the blush leaves his cheeks before he pulls his shirt up and over his head. Glancing over the assortment of tattoos along his torso, I tilt my head when he rolls over, sprawling out on his stomach. Along the top of his back, running along the back of his muscled shoulders, resides my step-brother's first tattoo. Angelic wings stretch across the back of his shoulders, each wing detailed and left free of any color. People often questioned why he had it tattooed in the first place, as Isaac is as Atheist as they come.

Snapping open the briefcase, I hear murmurs sound as I pull on a pair of latex gloves and begin removing the parts of my portable, battery-operated tattoo gun. Making sure to swipe everything down with an alcohol wipe, I slip one of the ink cartridges inside the gun before carefully straddling Isaac's lower back. Cracking my neck and back, I lean over and begin the tedious and careful act of adding to the piece. Moving to the first feather at the top of the entire tattoo, I begin to gently carve _Isaac Ryans_ within the confines of the top feather. Using a tissue to wipe away the blood, I look over the elegant, cursive script and nod to myself before moving down to the next two feathers, _Brian Ryans_ and _Monica Livingston_ carefully integrate within them. Following the same way, I get lost in the names: _Jason Ryans, Lauren Ryans, and Jamal 'Jamie' Preston_. Wiping the blood and excess ink from his skin, I nod once more to myself before rolling off of his back, placing a hand against the middle of his back to keep him on the ground. Gathering the tube of ointment, I smear the recommended amount over each name, fingers tracing them delicately as a small smile pulls on my lips._  
_

"Thanks, Sis," he murmurs as I rip apart a few strips of bandages, taping them over each name, keeping them from gathering dirt and other bacteria.

Ripping the gloves off of my hands, I toss them into a nearby campfire as he pulls his shirt back on, "I'm going to head down to the lake and graph up a new piece."

Colt nods, taking the briefcase from me as he hands me a knife. Sliding it down into my boot, I gather my sketchpad and a pencil before giving my over-protective brothers a pointed look. Between the last few days of constantly being surrounded by people, I need a moment for myself. I've managed to come to an understanding with Lori, so she's not all that bad. The brown-haired hunter, Daryl, seems to understand that I just don't like people. Between Natasha getting on my nerves and Isaac constantly trying to get me to talk to other campers, my nerves have been tense and on fire the entire time.

Finding the rock I sat on yesterday, I sit down, closing my eyes as the silence surrounds me. Water from the lake laps against the shore and I open my eyes to gaze upon the peaceful area. It's difficult to belief a place as peaceful as this exists during the chaotic time upon us. Smiling to myself, I open my book and flip to a new page, my pencil graphing out a new piece. With only so much ink to spare, until I can come across more, it can't be extravagant as I would normally make it. Memories of my mother gardening and my step-father always building something. Of Jason running down the football field and of Lauren hoping to become a dancer. Of Jamie and I sitting up until the early hours of the morning, curled up on a couch in the den, both of us reading. I miss the silent comfort I found in Jamie. He had been the first to accept me outside of my brother and his friends. He had been so understanding that I don't need to talk about thing. He encouraged so strongly for people to embrace their differences.

A red bandanna appears in my line of vision and I look up to see the crossbow-toting hunter standing, shifting awkwardly. Confused, I tilt my head as he wordlessly motions for me to take it. Why do I need it? Blinking, I feel the subtle, silent tears flow down my cheek. With shaky hands, I accept the bandanna and wipe the tears from my cheeks, dropping my gaze. I hate showing any weakness. Being a prime target for bullies, tears or embarrassment only stemmed them to do more and do worse. No. Weaknesses were to be kept hidden.

"Thanks," I mumble, swallow back the emotions before I hand him back the bandanna, "What are you doing out here, anyway?"

"Huntin'. My brother, Merle, is tracking a rabbit burrow and I'm after sum'more squirrel," Daryl replies, shifting his weight again, "Seen ya down here. Didn't realize yer cryin'."

"I didn't realize it until you shoved that bandanna in my face," I retort, wincing at the empty tone.

I can hear him shift his weight again and I am surprised when he speaks, "Ya gonna be alright?" Looking up, he seems to be shocked by the words that leaves his mouth because he quickly follows it with, "By yerself. Ya gonna be alright down here by yerself?"

Realizing that I am not the only person that feels awkward around people, I nod slowly, "I'll be fine."

With a curt nod, Daryl turns on point and disappears in the thick woods. Staring after the odd man, I feel my lips twitch slightly as I shake my head. He certainly is a strange one. He's difficult to read. Most people are so easy to understand just by watching them. Daryl? Not so much. He's aloof, introverted and quick to anger from what I've seen. He's protective of his family. I haven't properly met Merle, but I've seen the arguments between the two brothers and Officer Dickhead. I've seen people like Merle though. Tough as nails. Crude. Racist as they come. High. Always high. I'm not even sure how someone can find drugs during times like this, but I've seen the glazed over look in his eyes. Hey, who am I to judge? The man is his own person. If he want to fry what's left of his brain cells, then so be it.

* * *

"Does that hurt?"

The small, child-like voice causes me to lift my head off of my arms. Seeing Carl standing just a few feet away, his blue eyes wide and watching as Isaac carefully traces over the stenciled image along my spine. After many different takes and many different ideas, I managed to settle with the image of a petrified tree. Five, bold red apples bloom from the dead branches. I've never been one to stencil names into my body. It's a big taboo to be honest.

"Not really. It pinches a bit harder when he goes over a sensitive area, but you get used to it after awhile," I respond, giving the kid a soft smile, "Now, why don't you tell me why you really came over here?"

"I wanted to know if Mel can come play with me and Sophia," Carl states, looking around our area, "Where is she?"

I feel Isaac motion in a direction, "She's playing with her daddy. Why don't you go over there and join in the fun?"

"I don't know," Carl's eyes grow sad when Isaac mentions Colt and I see him glance over to the daughter-father duo playing catch with a rubber ball, "I don't want to be a bother."

"Hey," My curt tone pulls the boy's gaze to me and I offer him a smile, "Get your butt over there. Colt is just an over-grown kid."

The boy nods and I watch as he approaches Colt and Mel. Mel lets out a squeal, jumping up and down as Colt nods, tossing the small ball to Carl. Feeling Isaac rub ointment over the fresh tattoo before bandaging it, I stifle a laugh as his fingers run over my sides before reattaching the strap to my bra. As Isaac tugs my shirt, that had been bunched up to my shoulders, I push up to my hands and knees and slap him in the shoulder.

"You did that on purpose," I accuse, earning a cheeky smile in response as he offers a hand.

Once on my feet, I hear Colt call Isaac over. Colt approaches me and motions for me to follow him into the woods. Curious, I follow after my brother and pause when he stops, turning around to face me. Seeing the look in his eyes, I stand straighter, wondering what could be the cause of that look.

"Is everything okay?"

Colt cocks an eyebrow, "You tell me. I thought I asked you to try and be nice to Nat."

Glaring at him, I shake my head, "You can't be serious? This is why you dragged me out here? Look, I've tried to be nice. I've tried my best. That woman is a snide, selfish bitch. We should have never brought her with us."

"That wasn't your call to make."

"Don't get pissy with me," I snap, running a hand through my unkempt hair, "You are so fucking blind, it makes me sick. Did she tell you that she grabbed Mel by the arm? Dragging her away from Daryl by force? Did she tell you she came at _me_ with insults?"

"I don't particularly like the hunter you've been hanging around. Mel is too young to be wandering around, talking to people we don't know. And since when do you get all offended by words? I thought you were better than that?" Colt rattles off, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You know what? I think all of you should go fuck yourself," Colt's eyes widen in surprise at my words and I jab a finger in his chest, shoving against him slightly, "Daryl doesn't say or do anything around Mel that should make you worry. Do you really think I'd let her hang around someone like that? Since when have you been so judgmental?"

"Maybe since the world fell apart and we're surrounded by strangers," Colt snaps in return.

Shaking my head, I take a step back, "Mel doesn't even like that woman you brought with us. You think I'm the only person that sees the truth? You better open your fucking eyes, _Colton_."

"Don't call me that!"

I let out a bark of laughter, "You let her call you that. What's the matter, _Colton?_ You never told her why you hate that name?"

"Stay out of it, _Charlotte_."

The fire running along my nerves seems to combust with fury as my arm snaps forward, my knuckles cracking against the side of his face. Pulling my arm back as he stumbles, I watch as he rights himself, rubbing his cheek. The tension in my body causes it to shake, the anger and nervousness warring with each other as I glare at my own flesh and blood.

"I take it back. _You_ can go fuck yourself," I drop my gaze, turning away from him, "I've tried to get along with her, for your benefit. I've tried to be nice, for _your_ benefit. I've tried so hard and yet I'm _still_ the bad guy," Shaking my head, I let out a long sigh, "Just goes to prove, at the end of the day, you are no better than anyone else I've met."

Walking back to camp, I ignore my name echoing through the trees as I walk away from my brother.

* * *

"He's just stressed out. We all are."

"That's supposed to make it all better?" I ask, taking a drag from the cigarette before I glance over at Isaac.

Sitting on the roof of the RV, both of us keeping an eye on the camp below, we talk about the confrontation. The sun had sunken beneath the horizon just a few minutes ago and Isaac and I watched from our perch as people began calling it a night. Most of the campfires were put out, all except two. The silence is heavy around the camp and I watch as Colt slips into the tent behind Natasha, a sleeping Mel in his arms.

"Come on, Charlie. He's fighting with himself over how to make everyone get along," Isaac insists, his tone soft, "I'm gonna go get some shut eye. You comin'?"

Shaking my head, I watch as Isaac pushes himself over the edge of the RV, his body landing in a crouch. At his pointed look over his shoulder, I offer him a weak, mocking salute, earning a nod in return. My gaze follows him as he slips into the tent and I shake my head. Glancing up at the stars, I feel my thoughts going back to the day I met Jamie.

_"Are you sure you wanna do that, sweetie?"_

_Looking away from the pills resting in the palm of my hand, I blink at the sight of a dark-skinned teen leaning against the door to the women's bathroom. Who the fuck is he? Why does he care if I end it all? My hand shake and it becomes hard to swallow as the boy steps closer. People don't look at me like that. People don't see me as a person. They see me as a target._

_"Come on, sweetie. There's gotta be somethin' worth living for."_

_His soft, sweet tone causes my eyes to burn with repressed tears, "I can't handle it anymore," My voice shakes as does my head, my body trembling with emotion, "I hate it. I hate all of it. I go home, everyday, and lie to my mother's face. My own mother and I lie, telling her I fell down the stairs again, or was in an intense game of football or something."_

_A gentle hand rests on my shoulder and I flinch at the feeling, "Oh sweetie. Come here. Let me look at ya."_

_I can't tell how long I stand there. The pills are dumped down the drain and a wet paper towel runs over my face. I stare into the amber eyes, sensitive and caring, and I muse over who the hell this is. He looks vaguely familiar, but then again, I've always tried to disappear in the crowd._

_"Now, listen to me sweetie. I see, standing in front of me, a beautiful young woman with such a heavy burden. I see a strong personality threatening to break free. I see a girl, tormented and broken, who will grow into a woman of worth. If anyone makes you think differently isn't worth the effort," I blink back, a numb sensation traveling over me as I realize this boy is trying to be nice, "You need to take a stand. Fight back. Don't let them make you believe for one moment that you are anything less than what you are."_

_"Who are you?"_

_"Jamal, but everyone calls me Jamie. What about you, sweetie?"_

_"Charlotte, but I go by Charlie."_

_"I'd rather call you Letty. Charlie's too masculine for a cutie like you."_

_For the first time, in a long time, a giggle leaves my lips and I nod, "Alright. Letty it is."_

Slowly, a small smile forms on my face as the memory comes forth. My eyebrows knit together as the smell of tender, cooked meat invades my senses and I glance over, jumping slightly at the sight of Daryl sitting in a position mimicking my own. His gaze is settled on the camp below, traveling over the woods surrounding us and the sky above. When did he get here?

"Didn't see ya' at dinner," I blink and look down at the plate sitting between us, "Didn't see ya' eat breakfast neither. Figured you'd be hungry."

Nodding mutely, I give him a thankful glance as I take the plate. The silence remains as I eat the food, my palate taking in the odd taste of roasted squirrel. Not bad, if I'm honest. Just another thing I'm going to have to get used to. Finishing off the food, I place the plate to my right and fish out the pack of smokes from the pocket at my knee, offering my silent companion one as a thanks.

"Yer brother came and asked me to leave his family alone," I huff, letting out a ring of smoke, as I glance over at Daryl, who doesn't look away from the camp, "He's a good guy, that brother of yers."

"Yeah. He is. He needs to learn to keep his opinions to himself," I retort, snorting as I shake my head in dismay, "He's always been over protective of family." A thought pops in my head and I feel it tilt in response, "Why did you come up here then?"

His lips twitch, his shoulder heaving as he lets out a stream of smoke, "Don't know what yer talkin' 'bout. Last time I checked, I got yer food." Shaking his head, he leans forward, his eyes gleaming with humor, "The way I see it, if ya have a problem with me bein' 'round ya, yer the type to tell me to fuck off. Not make yer brother do it fer ya."

_'I like being your friend. Your a good girl, Letty. And until you tell me different, no one can change my mind about whether I hang around you or not.'_

Smiling gently, I turn my gaze back to the sky. The silence falls over us once again in a blanket of comfort.

'Thanks for the memories, Jamie,' the words echo in my head, 'Sorry I couldn't get to you sooner.' Closing my eyes as a stray breeze drifts through the woods, I smile, 'but I'll try. I promise I'll try to do better.'

* * *

**Thanks again guys! I promise, there will be a bit of a time skip in the next chapter, breaking everything up along weeks. I'm trying to move things along because I don't want the story to go stagnant. I really hope Daryl doesn't seem out of character. I figured he isn't comfortable around crying women and didn't think Charlie had been until he approached her. I hope the memory serves you guys with a taste of what type of friendship and devotion Charlie had with Jamie. Thank you again for reading and please leave a review!**

**Freckles the Wanderer: I'm trying to make Daryl as canon as possible. I'm not going to make a story where they fall in love within the first three chapters. There has to be foundations to a relationship and I can tell you, like Daryl, Charlie's never actually been in one before. So...most likely, it won't hit her how close they are until something bad happens. No. Charlie isn't a damsel in distress, but she has her moments of weakness. I figured Charlie finds more comfort in Daryl's quick-to-the-point conversations than other camp members trying to get to know her, and I hope this chapter doesn't make him seem too out of character. **

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: I can't give that away. Any one person could die at any given time. So...it's possible. (cue evil cackle) **

**Pein's Kid: Hey, what can I say. I try. lol.**

**For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:**

**Freckles the Wanderer  
Paper Grenade  
Pein's Kid  
Ravenclaw Slytherin  
shyannene  
**

**Coming Next Chapter: What will Colt think of the timid friendship his sister is forming with Daryl? Why do both of the Livingston Siblings hate being called by their full names? Will Isaac ever stop blushing in front of Amy? Will Charlie ever openly talk with someone other than Daryl and the kids? What do you think should happen next? AND WHERE THE HELL IS MY CUPCAKE! lol...again, hyper. Love you guys! **


	5. Part 1-5: Evasion

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are formed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out there, but I want to take my shot at it. The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up into different Parts, following the Seasons. This story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me know what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping it as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Five**  
_Evasion_

* * *

_(n) 1. escape, avoidance_

* * *

"I'll go with the Asian kid."

I never really thought a simple sentence would cause such a big issue. The moment the words leave my lips, gazes pop up to stare at me as I sit in my usual spot on the RV. The old man, Dale, chuckles from my side, most likely amused by the reaction I received. Colt and Isaac immediately tense up and I spy Daryl, who had once been leaning against a tree, push himself upright and head for his tent. Ignoring the shock in the other refugees, I hop down to the ground and head for the tent, getting ready for the run. Checking the clip of my gun, I slip it into the pocket of my cargo pants along with two separate magazines. Pocketing my butterfly knife I jacked from Colt's house, I hook the sheath for my knife to the waistband of my pants. Leaning over, I tug at the loosened laces of my boots, making sure they are tight enough to support endurance running.

"You can't seriously be thinking about doing this?" Colt's voice demands as I step out of the tent.

Glaring at my brother, I raise my chin, unwilling to stand down, "I don't _think_ I'm going to be doing anything. I would much rather face Walkers than have to sit around here and be ignored by my own flesh and blood. You've hardly said a word to me for over a week."

"You're acting like a child."

Shrugging my shoulder as I grab an empty camping backpack, I stash a few bottles of water inside in case it gets too hot, "I don't care if it may seem childish. You still treat me like I can't make my own decisions. Telling me who I can and can't hang around," I hoist the bag onto my shoulders and give him a pointed look, "Tell me. When did that ever work out in your favor?"

"I've seen types like Daryl before, Charlie. He's bad news."

"Kinda jumping the gun there, don't you think?" I retort, shaking my head in exasperation, "He's the only one in the camp that doesn't push me for answers. He doesn't ask about the past. He doesn't even talk the majority of the time. He's someone I may consider a friend, even during this time of utter chaos."

Colt snorts, "Thought you didn't make friends?"

"And here I thought you were the mature one, with honor and dignity?" I watch him flinch and I turn to head over to the Asian kid, "I suppose we don't know each other as well as we thought."

Walking off, I catch sight of Isaac sitting in a lawn chair, the Amy girl seated next to him, rubbing his back in comforting circles. Choking back my discomfort around the blonde girl, I approach my step-brother. He says nothing as he moves to his feet, embracing me for a quick moment. Pulling out of the hug, I shift the bag on my shoulders again as I offer him a small smile.

"Come back in one piece."

Nodding, I offer him a small wink, "Do me a favor and see if you can beat some sense into Colt? I'm not sure how much more I can handle from him."

After I receive a nod, I head over toward the truck and toss the bag into the bed of the truck. Twirling the keys, I pause when small arms wrap around my legs. Giggling at my niece, I kneel down and pull her into a hug. Whispering words of endearment and telling her to keep an eye on the family, I can't help but smile when the tiny blonde salutes me. Oh man, I created a monster with that one. Watching as she races back to our tent, I stand up slowly when I catch sight of Daryl and the Asian kid approaching. Daryl doesn't say anything as he climbs into the passenger seat of the truck and I shrug while turning to the Asian.

"Um...hi," I nod mutely as the boy rubs the back of his neck nervously, "I'm Glenn."

"Alright. Well, hop in. You're going to have to give direction. Not familiar with the area."

Speeding out of the quarry, I feel my nerves begin to relax. Following Glenn's directions, I mildly wonder if he knows I can hear him shifting awkwardly in the back seat. Glancing at him in the rear view mirror, I roll my eyes as I see the desire to talk written all over his face.

"Spit it out, kid."

Hearing the subtle, under breath chuckle from Daryl as the kid jumps at my words, I give the Asian boy a pointed look, "You want to talk, so talk."

"Sorry, Charlotte, I-"

"Charlie. If you're going to call me Charlotte, I'll feed you to the Walkers myself."

Glenn gulps at my words and nods quickly, "Right. I was just wondering why you came."

"Needed to get away from camp before I bash someone's head in. Figured I can take my annoyance out on some Walkers while I'm at it," I shrug, seeing Glenn's eyes widen, "Crazy, I know, but effective. Can't go around slaughtering innocent camp members. No matter how much I'd like to."

"So, where are you from?" Glenn asks.

"Few miles outside of Baltimore, Maryland," I respond as I turn down a street.

"C-Can I ask why you don't go by your full name?"

I ponder over whether to tell him or not, before I nod slowly, "After my father skipped out on us, my grandfather kind of helped Ma take care of us. He always called me Charlie and my brother Colt. I was fifteen when he died, right about to start high school. Really the only father I knew. Hearing my full name kind of brings memories of a father that was never there."

"Yer niece calls ya Letty," I nod, seeing the slight surprise flash through Glenn's face as Daryl glances over at me briefly, "She always call ya that?"

"I blame Jamie for that," I muse, my fingers tapping at the steering wheel, "Jamie said Charlie was too masculine for a girl. He was the first to call me Letty and Mel picked up on it and has been calling me by that name ever since."

Pulling into the parking lot of a strip mall, I park right by the doors of the warehouse club. Spying no sign of Walkers, I hop out as Daryl immediately takes point. I muse over why he came, but shrug it off. Hey. It's another form of muscle in the group, so I'm not really complaining. Taking up the rear, I follow after Glenn and Daryl as we slip inside, the two men pulling the automatic doors apart. The silence is heavy as we step into the atrium of the store.

"We should split up, take out any Walkers and then come back and use the carts to gather supplies," I suggest, causing both to turn toward me, "It would only distract us if we are gathering stuff and shoving shit into our bags will only weigh us down."

Seeing the nods, Glenn suggests he stay put in case any Walkers come to the doors. Daryl and I slip further into the store, passing the registers. Silently, I motion for him to go down one side of the isle while I take the other half, both of us meeting in the back of the warehouse within ten minutes. He doesn't seem pleased, but he nods in agreement anyway. Giving him a mocking salute, I saunter off down the isle running parallel to his, just on the opposite side of the warehouse. Brandishing my knife, I keep my breathing steady as my ears catch the scuffing sound of a Walker's limp. Turning the corner of one of the large shelving units, I don't hesitate as I sink the blade of the knife into the back of the Walker's skull. Removing the blade, I continue down the path, turning up the end and turning back down the next isle. Weaving up and down the several isles along the right side of the store, I don't get a chance to muse over the lack of Walkers when I come across a small gaggle of them as I come up to the back of the store.

"A baker, a butcher, a truck driver and a tattoo artist walk into a bar..." I muse aloud, smirking to myself before I launch myself at the first Walker.

As the first Walker sinks to the ground, I rip the blade from his head and turn on point, the blade flipping in my hand as I bring the knife backwards. Swallowing back the sickening bile, the blackened blood coating my hands, I shudder inwardly as the knife buries into the side of another Walker's skull. Before I can turn to the next one, a faint break in the wind pierces the air, my hair fluttering as a bolt flies pass my head. Seeing the bolt pierced through the eye socket of the third Walker, I lean down and yank it out of its skull before rounding on Daryl. Nodding my silent thanks, I offer him the bolt, figuring it can be reused.

"So, what happens at the end of yer joke?"

I snort, as I use my shirt to wipe the blood from my knife, "Some Robin Hood wannabe shows up and ruins the party."

"Pretty sure I saved yer life."

Another snort escapes me, my head shaking, "More like you wanted to get your rocks off," I offer him a smirk, causing his gaze to turn away, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck, "Come on. We should get back to Glenn."

Walking at a leisurely pace, we manage to make it half way back when Daryl's voice breaks the silence, "Yer brother teach ya to fight like that?"

"Not so much as fighting as it is defending myself, but yeah," I nod lazily, shrugging my shoulders, "Colt's number one rule was that the first move you make needs to be the last and only move."

"Why'd he do it?"

An echoing pain pulses at the back of my head and my hand immediately runs through my hair, rubbing at the spot nonchalantly, "If you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about it," Glancing over, I shrug slightly, "Not exactly a pleasant memory and I'd rather not have it running through my head while we're out here."

Instead of arguing, Daryl nods curtly as we move through the register isles, catching sight of Glenn lifting a bat away from the collapsed skull of a Walker. Chuckling at the horrified look on his face, I offer the Asian kid a small nod. Giving the all-clear, we begin pushing carts through the warehouse. Collecting non-perishable food, bottled water and various other niceties, I wander through the pharmacy. Collecting vitamins, first aid kits and other over-the-counter medicines, I spy tubes of A&D ointment. Grinning to myself, I grab some before tossing it into my backpack.

After packing the boxed items and bags in the bed of the truck, Daryl calls for my attention before motioning to other shops in the strip mall. Spying a pawn shop, I nod before tossing Glenn the keys, telling him to keep the truck ready. Following Daryl into the pawn shop, we gather whatever guns we can find, figuring at some point we'd have to make a run for ammo. Spying a familiar looking blade mounted on a wall, I climb my way up to it before pulling it down from its mount. The _pian dao_, the Chinese version of a sabre, or a scimitar, is light weighted, easy to maneuver with a blade that only stretches the length of sixteen inches.

"Looks kinda dull."

Snickering, I turn back to Daryl, "Easily fixed."

"D'ya think ya can even use it?"

Shrugging my shoulder, I slide the blade into its sheath before belting it to my hip, "Practice can help. I already know how to fight using blades. Just have to get used to the extra weight. Jamie's ex used to collect swords and shit like this, so I have an idea."

"Let's get back to the Asian and get the hell outta here."

* * *

"Auntie Letty!"

The shout pierces the air as I hop out of the truck and I grunt as a small frame plows against my legs, causing me to stumble slightly. Ruffling Mel's hair, I give the beautiful girl a small smile. Hoisting her into my arms, I embrace her tightly, kissing the side of her head. Feeling someone brush by me, I catch Daryl's gaze and offer him a small nod. I may not have felt the need to being saved, but there was a time in my life when someone would have turned the other cheek. A small, barely noticeable smirk twitches along his lips in response and again, I am thankful. Words aren't needed for a sense of understanding to go between us.

Dropping the child to the ground, I nod curtly to Officer Dickhead as he offers his thanks before the child tugs me along. Isaac is quick to clap me on the back, his grin barely able to hide the worry in his eyes. Coming to a stop in front of Colt, I motion for Mel to go play with Carl and Sophia when my brother motions for the need to talk. Following him into the same area we stood in over a week ago, I cross my arms, waiting for whatever he has to say.

"I'm sorry," I blink, tilting my head slightly at his words, "You were right to be angry, but I can't apologize for my intentions. You'll always be my baby sister and I will always want you safe."

"And our conversation about Daryl?" I push, nodding my understanding behind his actions.

He inhales deeply before nodding, "I still don't like him and I won't ever think anyone is good enough to be near you."

"He saved my life," I state, earning a concerned look and I wave my hand dismissively, "I didn't need to be saved, but he did it regardless."

"That may be so, but it will take me awhile to get pass his less than reputable name. Just be careful. I can't ever forget the kid that tried to befriend you after you started hanging around Jamie."

Glaring at him, I earn a sheepish grin in return, "I'm pretty sure I'm a decent judge of character by now. Daryl isn't about to befriend someone out of spite."

"Alright, just...stay safe."

Nodding, I turn and walk off. Walking back into camp, I flinch when an unfamiliar hand briefly taps against my shoulder. Whirling around, I am surprised when Daryl takes a cautious step back before offering me a long, rectangular box. I snort. Figures he'd go into a warehouse store and manage to snag a carton or two of cigarettes. Taking the offered carton, I flash him a tense, nervous smile. A nod is my only response before he saunters off to slip back into his own tent. Ripping into one of the packs and grabbing the _pian dao_, I climb up to my usual spot on the roof of the RV.

"A nice run, Charlie?"

Nodding silently to Dale, I plop into my usual position overlooking the camp before lighting up the cigarette, "Yeah. Never did thank you," Glancing over at the old man, I shrug a shoulder, "For letting me use this spot as a getaway."

"It's no problem, dear."

Silence falls over us and I watch the refugees distribute the items we gathered on the run. Glancing down at the blade laying across my lap, I take a drag from the cigarette as my mind wanders over Jamie's ex talking about how to sharpen blades. A long, tedious process, but a process that is needed for a sword like this. Lifting up the sharpening rock I used at Colt's house, I begin running it along the length of the blade, the repetitious motions causing all thought to fall away, a sense of relaxation replacing it.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Alright, I'm sure there will be only two more chapters before we bring in Rick and the beginning of the series starts. Sorry if it seems like it's taking awhile, but I figured they'd have to have been at the camp for an extended amount of time. Come on, they know how to do laundry in a lake and all that other crap, I figured it took awhile.**

**Winterfellsfallenangel: YAY! Aboslutely inexcusable. I'm telling you, at some point, I will force you to sit down and watch it. I'm glad you are enjoying it while not fully knowing the fandom. **

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: lol...is it bad that I cackled when I read your review? Don't worry. She's not exactly the type to survive the apocalypse. She's just a catalyst used to express that while Colt and Charlie are close, they are both stubborn and they are still siblings...they will fight.**

**Pein's Kid: Glad you loved it. Really trying to keep the pace easy.**

**For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:**

**Freckles the Wanderer  
Paper Grenade  
Pein's Kid  
Ravenclaw Slytherin  
shyannene  
winterfellsfallenqueen  
kore12191  
**

**Coming Next Chapter: Charlie gets pulled into a campfire chat? What questions are asked? Will she blow her top again? Will the refugees ever really understand her? What happens when Charlie and Merle bump heads? Do they argue? Do the laugh? WHAT DO YOU THINK SHOULD HAPPEN? And no, no asking me to kill off Natasha. She'll get hers when she gets it.**

**Thanks again (Cupcakes still not obtained, but I did manage to get a cookie)**


	6. Part 1-6: Forebearing

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are form ed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out t h ere, but I want to take my shot at it . The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up i n to different Parts, following the Seasons . Th is story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me kn ow what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping i t as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Six**  
_Forebearing_

* * *

_(n) 1. tolerant_

* * *

"Alright, Charlie, it's your turn to answer a few questions."

Pulling out of my thoughts, I look around the expectant faces and for the umpteenth time I turn a heated glare in Isaac's direction. It's his fault I'm over here. I can understand his desire to see me open up to the other refugees, but it doesn't mean I am anymore comfortable with it. In fact, I hate it. I can see the underlying hypertension in their postures, as if they are waiting for a chance to ask any question. I wasn't aware that I was such a mysterious person. Giving into the sigh, I nod my head curtly.

"What one thing do you miss above all else?" Lori asks, her eyes soft and curious.

Nibbling on my bottom lip, I shift lightly at the open staring and turn my gaze to the unlit campfire, the humid Georgian day making me feel disgusting, "I miss my house," I admit, fishing out a cigarette as I feel the stares ask for more, "I miss my bed. I miss having a place to call my own. I miss being in the heart of the mountains, no neighbors for a mile or so. I miss the seclusion, the silence, the ability to go somewhere where I' m not judged for who I am. I miss being able to come home at midnight and..."

I trail off, not even the nicotine filling my lungs able to stop the subtle shaky feeling along my nerves, earning someone to ask, "And...?"

"My roommate, Jamie, used to greet me every night after work with a..." I glance around at the listening children, ".. . a _night cap_." The surrounding adults laugh at my choice of words, "When I didn't work, and didn't feel like going out to face the world, Jamie and I would curl up on the couch, reading a book. I miss that comfort, I suppose, more than anything else."

"Was Jamie your boyfriend?" Amy asks.

The question causing me to choke on my cigarette smoke, Isaac and Colt cackling with amusement as I manage to exhale the smoke, my eyes burning from the reflexive tears, "Jesus f-" I pause, once again aware of children that were not my niece and I shake my head, "No. Just...no. Not even possible last time I checked. "

"Why not?" Amy presses, her head tilting.

Isaac laughs, throwing an arm over my shoulders as he motions along the length of my body, "Charlie lacks the appropriate plumbing for a guy like Jamie."

The shock and realization on the faces of the other refugees manages to earn a small chuckle from me. Amy's cheeks immediately flush a bright red, a few of the women following her example. I don't know why they're embarrassed. It's just a matter of fact.

"What's with you and Dixon?" Who the fuck is Dixon? The thought must have shown on my face, because Officer Dickhead coughs before adding, "You and Daryl. You two seem pretty close."

"I...suppose we're friends," I shrug, not quite sure what the relationship is between Daryl and I, "Why?"

"I think, what Shane means, is that...you two spend an awful lot of time together," Andrea, Amy's older sister, states.

We do? Curious. I know I spend more time with him than any other refugees, but we really don't spend that much time together. We share smokes. He gets me to eat when I somehow forget, which isn't exactly a new habit of mine. We have small conversations, but...that's about it.

"Alright, if you guys want answers you have to ask point blank. Charlie's no type to beat around the bush about something," Isaac comments before he turns to me, "They're trying, in a roundabout way, to ask if you and Daryl are fucking ."

My eyes widen instantly at the words and my gaze immediately falls, an odd warmth flooding along my cheeks. Really? These people have nothing better to do than comment and speculate the lives of others? Remaining silent, I shake my head, not bothering to give them the courtesy of a verbal response. Rubbing at my warm cheek, hoping to rub away the odd sensation, I glance over at Isaac, glaring at him. Oh yeah. He's a dead man.

"Didn't you tell me, your sister's never really dated anyone?"

After being able to avoid the bitch for so long, it is inevitable that she is a part of this campfire chat. No. I've never dated someone. It isn't something I' m ashamed of. The memories brought with her question causes me to look up, shooting the woman a glare. Without giving a response, I stand from my spot, needing to get away. Hearing the distant sound of Isaac calling the woman a bitch, I snort inwardly as I decide to go for a walk.

_"Charlie, right?"_

_I look up from the book in my hand, glancing around the cafeteria before looking up at the nervous looking teen standing at my table, "Yeah? What do you want ?" _

_"Well, there's a school dance coming up. I-I was wondering if y-you wanted to go with me?" Cocking an eyebrow, I watch as he stammers over himself, "I-I've always admired the way you stand up for yourself. I...just wasn't sure if I could find the nerve to ask you out."_

_Remembering Jamie's encouragement on enjoying life, living in the moment, I nod slowly, "Alright."_

I shake my head of the memory as I come across my usual perch along the shoreline of the lake. Sitting cross-legged on t he rock, I gaze out onto the shimmering blue water. Why is it such a problem? That I don't like people? I don't really have a reason to like many people. Sighing to myself, I muse over what life would be like if Jamie had made it.

* * *

"By yerself again?"

Snapping out of my thoughts, I nod without having to look up. I've grown accustomed to his voice, his Southern drawl and quick-to-the-point conversations. It's easier.

"Out hunting again?" I ask, hearing a grunt in response, "Squirrel again?"

"Caught wind of possible deer roamin' these woods," he states, "May be a few days before I catch its trail."

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

The voice is not one I am familiar with. Looking up, I ignore Daryl's tense posture as an older man approaches. Military hair cut. Wife beater and jeans. There isn't really anything remarkable about the man. Other than his eyes are only two shades lighter than Daryl's. The familiarity between the two causes me to remember the man is frequently spotted around Daryl.

"Merle, right?" I guess, tensing at the disturbing look on the man's face.

"That's right, sugar tits."

Moving to my feet, I turn a glare on the man, "What was that, dickless?"

"Oh, little brotha found him a bit of a spitfire, huh?" Merle grins, clapping Daryl on the back. "Ain't really surprised . Us Dixon's ain't known for pamperin' our women."

"Let's make a few things clear, Merle. I'm not someone's woman, never have been and I refuse to be thought of as a possession," I watch an odd expression flicker through Merle's gaze, "And even if I was in a relationship, you can bet your ass that I'm not the type to demand pampering. So, how about we try this introduction thing again, or you can go ahead and go the fuck somewhere else."

Instead of getting offended, the man let s out a bark of laughter, his head falling back slightly before he straightens out, "You're alright, girl. Not quite sure what you see in my little brotha."

"Daryl's a...friend."

My words seem to send a sense of surprise through Daryl's eyes, but Merle simply smirks, nodding his head. Merle saunters off, disappearing into the woods and I take the time to glance over at Daryl . He seems confused. Surely it isn't that much of a surprise. The other refugees weren't wrong. I do spend time with Daryl. We talk, on occasion. He never pushes for more than I'm willing to offer. I never really had to think about the type of bond I seem to be growing with the hunter. It was just...there. It just seemed to happen over time.

"I should get back to camp," I say, running my fingers through my hair, "Hope you bag yourself that deer."

Daryl doesn't say anything, nodding mutely as I start my way back up to camp.

* * *

Night falls over the camp once again, and like usual, I find myself nodding to Dale as he climbs down the ladder of the RV, turning in for the night. I'm surprised, to be honest, by Merle's acceptance. I've heard he isn't the easiest person to get along with. Heavy drug user as well, but like I said before, it isn't my life, not really my problem. I've seen people like Merle before. Protective of family, to the point of being possessive. It took me awhile to realize most of the conversations between Daryl and I occurred most when Merle was absent, or asleep.

"Fer sum'one that don't like bein' pampered, I sure do bring yer food to ya a lot."

I shrug sheepishly, taking the plate as Daryl takes his usual seat next to me, " It's a bad habit. I've never had much of an appetite. Maybe ate a small breakfast, skipped lunch and ate dinner."

"S'kinda weird," he mutters as he lights a cigarette, "Is that why yer so tiny?"

I snort, shaking my head, "No. Ma was only a couple of inches away from being considered a legal midget," Daryl snorts , choking back his chuckled response to my words, "Five-four isn't much better , but I like to think of myself as being fun-sized rather than vertically challenged."

"Yer a strange one, fer sure."

"Never once told anyone I was normal," Feeling Daryl's gaze constantly waver between the camp and the side of my head , I swallow a piece of squirrel meat before asking, "Something on your mind?"

"That snob hangin' 'round yer brother all the time, said ya never dated no one before," I nod slowly, swallowing the lump in my throat as I look down at the plate in my lap, "Can I ask why?"

"Tried it before, when I was in school. Let's just say the entire thing was a bad joke," I sigh, shrugging my shoulder, "It's really the whole reason Colt decided to teach me to defend myself."

"The kid didn't...y'know."

Hearing the insinuation in his words, I shake my head, "No. Nothing like that. Was set up and when it was all said and done, I came home covered in bruises and cuts, even a cracked rib if I remember correctly. After that, I didn't bother with anyone at school other than Jamie. After I graduated, I was so focused on opening my own parlor that...I just never did."

"My old man used to beat on me," I blink back the memories in my head and glance over at him, "Never when Merle was 'round. When Merle was released from juvie, things only seemed to get worse. Merle was the same when he was sober, but when he was messed up, he sometimes wasn't any better than our old man."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," I reply, earning a glance in my direction, "I was only abused and bullied by kids my own age. Never my own family, unless you consider Colt and I getting into fights when we were kids as abuse." I pause , tilting my head slightly as a thought pops in my head, "Why did you tell me this?"

Daryl's thumb runs over his lip, the same nervous habit he displayed when we first met, and he glances away, shrugging a shoulder, "Ain't that what friends do?"

The acceptance is silent, muted and with out a need for words. It is simply what it is. We had somehow become friends in the thick of everything. Would this cause our relationship to change? Would he expect more answers? Will he ask more questions? A comfortable silence falls over us as I polish off the last of my dinner. Maybe having a friend at the end of the world isn't such a bad idea.

* * *

"Um, Charlie?" Looking away from Mel splashing around with the other kids, I feel my fingers twitch at the sight of Amy standing a few feet away. "I just...wanted to apologize. I didn't think my question yesterday would be such a sensitive subject."

Blinking, I tilt my head slightly before nodding, "I'm fine. I just can't get a long with Natasha for the life of me. I've tried, but now I'm just trying to do my best to just tolerate her as my brother's extra baggage."

"Well, from what Isaac tells me, you seem like a really...nice person," Amy shifts nervously, "I hope we can take a chance to get to know each other."

"Maybe."

Watching her walk off, I cringe at the thought of more people invading my privacy. Sighing, I know it is only inevitable.

* * *

**Wow! My reviews for my last chapter made me grin from ear to freaking ear. I honestly, can't tell you guys, how much your reviews make me push out more chapters and more ideas. I really hope that I am keeping the canon characters in-character. I don't want to make them seem too out of character.**

**MJH (guest): Thank you. I'm glad you are enjoying it so much.**

**Dee (guest): Wow. I am honestly pleased and thankful for your review. Believe me, I understand how other authors tend to push OC's to the background. My OC's are family, so no matter what is going on they will always interact with each other. It is difficult writing about how Charlie would react to Merle, only because Charlie is a ball of nervous-reaction, so she comes off as being short tempered. It's more like Charlie accepts Merle being around and Merle just tolerating Charlie because he finds her reactions amusing. Again, thank you!**

**kaayrakoi: Thanks! Like I've said, I've tried to make my own characters believable and their personality, while being family, are so different that it only makes sense to have them build relationships with the rest of the refugees. **

**Winterfellsfallenangel: Yes, yes, I know you demand death to people all the time. I promise...she will die at some point and the reaction will not be what you people are expecting.**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: lol...yay! I'm not the only weirdo!**

**Pein's Kid: YAY FOR CUPCAKES! lol...thanks for the review!**

**For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:**

**Freckles the Wanderer  
Paper Grenade  
Pein's Kid  
Ravenclaw Slytherin  
shyannene  
winterfellsfallenqueen  
kore12191  
Hannie88  
Lilly72  
jalannas  
kelizabeth13  
kittykat195  
**

**Coming Next Chapter: Charlie is left to her own devices when Glenn takes a group for a run in the city and Daryl finally catches the trail of a deer. What do you think will occur? Who do you think Charlie will come across next? Should Charlie make a bond with another refugee member? If so, who? **

**Thanks again (Cupcakes have been received and the author couldn't be happier).**


	7. Part 1-7: Gutless

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are form ed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out t h ere, but I want to take my shot at it . The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up i n to different Parts, following the Seasons . Th is story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me kn ow what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping i t as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Seven**  
_Gutless_

* * *

_(n) 1. timid 2. cowardly_

* * *

"Here." Daryl's dark blue gaze sweeps over to me before glancing down at the bottled water I am offering him, "The heat is killer today."

Carefully, he takes the water bottle, flashing me a faint smile before disappearing into the thick of the woods. With Merle in Atlanta with Glenn, Andrea, T-Dog, Jacqui and Morales, I know he is second-guessing if he should stick around the camp. I don't mind. He and I aren't so different when you get down to the thick of it all. He needs his space, just as much as I do. Once the visage of his posture fades from sight, I run my fingers through my mess of hair, figuring now would be as good of a time as any to head down to the lake and wash up.

After collecting my things and letting my brothers know where I am going, I sink into the cool, refreshing waters. Thankfully, during the run, Glenn managed to gather feminine hygienic items. Taking the moment of peace, I shave and wash, going through the age-old mannerisms of every women. It's tedious, and slightly pointless, but somethings become ingrained in our actions that it becomes second nature. Finishing my bathing, I sink back into the waters, swimming around through the cool waters.

The empty thoughts in my head fades, an odd sensation traveling up my spine. I'm being watched. I know I am. I can feel it. I've dealt with people watching and staring my entire life. Glancing around the area, I focus on the treeline, but upon seeing nothing, I shrug it off as psychological. I've never been an outdoor, camping type before. Perhaps it's the openness of the area that is playing with my head.

Shaking off the feeling, I swim to the rocky shoreline and wrap my towel around my body. It doesn't take long for the hot Georgian air to dry off my body and I quickly pull on my clothes, shoving my feet back into my boots before heading back to the camp. Following the trail, I pause mid-step when a muffled thump and yelp sounds somewhere nearby, but glancing around, I shrug it off as psychological again. Nothing. Maybe I've watched too many cheesy horror flicks to be able to bathe alone in a lake. Entering camp, I am paused by one of the women, the short-haired one named Carol if I recall. After much debating, as I'm not sure I'm comfortable with a stranger doing my laundry, I collect my dirty clothes and bring them back to her. Muttering a short 'thanks', I manage to locate Natasha and Colt sitting around, talking to Officer Dickhead and Lori. Mel, Carl and Sophia stand in the middle of the clearing, tossing around a handball. I spy Isaac sitting in front of our tent, sketching something in his own sketch book.

"Hey," I greet, plopping down onto the blanket sprawled out, "Where's that Amy girl you're always hanging around?"

"Upset about her sister going into the city," Isaac murmurs, "She's in the RV with that Dale guy."

"You wanna play our game?" I ask, letting out a small giggle when Isaac's head pops up, "Oh come on. I've hardly spoken to anyone. Figure we could give these people a shot."

Isaac grins widely before glancing around the camp of refugees before pointing to a tall, lanky guy sitting on top of the RV, "Alright. That's Jimmy."

Tapping my chin, I muse over the lounging man. He's tan, as if he spends his days in the sun. Tilting my head, I shrug, "I'm going to guess a construction worker. Maybe mechanic at least."

Going through the refugees, we try to guess what they did before the world went to shit. It was something we've always done. Sometimes, we managed to hit spot on. Sometimes, we've been way off. It helps pass the time. Seeing the worry lift from Isaac's gaze, I smile inwardly. There's no use in worrying until it is proven fact that something is wrong. It is something I've always believed in, a way of life.

* * *

"Thanks, Carol," I say, bowing my head respectfully as the woman hands me a stack of clean clothes.

"It's no problem. Helps keep me busy," Carol replies with a small smile.

Nodding to the short-haired woman, I turn to leave when a snort sound from the fat lard sitting in the lawn chair, "Bitch should do her own laundry like the rest of the women."

Freezing mid-step, I slowly turn back to the man, "You wanna try that again, asshole?"

"I said bitches like you should do their own damn laundry. My wife doesn't need to be slaving over you."

I don't like this man. Color me judgmental, but this man makes my skin crawl. Glaring, I take a step forward, ignoring Carol's move to stop me. "If I were you, I'd keep my opinions to myself. Your wife was kind enough to offer. Tell me, what have you done for this camp since we showed up?" Seeing him struggle for an answer, I sneer in disgust, "That's what I thought. So why don't you shut the fuck up."

Turning to walk away from the situation before I do something I'd regret, which is highly unlikely, I barely catch the strangled yell before pain blossoms along the side of my head. Stumbling from the blow, I shake away the sudden pain, ignoring the silence that falls over the camp as I turn back to the man. Tilting my head, the joints along my neck popping soundly, I glare at the smug bastard.

"My niece can hit harder than you," I spit out, earning a growl in return, "It's kind of pathetic you have to wait until my back is turned. Come on. You wanna hit me?" I wiggle my fingers in a come hither motion, grinning at the angry red flush spreading across his face, watching as his eyes flicks over the other refugees, most likely my brothers, "Don't worry about Colt or Isaac. They won't get involved. You wanna pick a fight, come on." Seeing his reluctance I snort, "Pussy."

As I turn to walk away again, I catch the rushed footsteps and remembering Colt's training, I duck forward, the subtle sound of a fat fist breaking through the air where my head had been. Not bothering to wait it out, I use his lapse in judgment to bring my left leg back, hooking it behind his right and pulling forward. Feeling his balance becoming thrown off, I turn into his chest, the flat of my palm smacking into his solar plexus. The air knocks out of his lungs as his back slams on the ground, my foot immediately coming to rest on his chest, the toe of my boot inches away from pressing against his windpipe.

"Ed!" Carol's voice screams out and I shake my head in disgust at her display of poor dependency.

"Step one toe out of line, Ed, and you can bet that this is the least you'll have to worry about," I sneer down at him before pulling my foot away from his chest.

Walking away from the scene as Carol is quick to kneel at her husband's side, I shake my head. Ignoring the shocked look on Officer Dickhead's face and the smug grin on Colt's I duck into the tent, hoping that people will leave me alone.

* * *

"The fuckin' hell happen to yer face?"

Surprised, my gaze snaps away from my book and I spy Daryl standing at the opening of my tent. Wondering what he is doing here, I spy a plate of squirrel, or maybe rabbit, meat in his hands and sit up. Motioning for him to come inside, I mark my page and set the book aside as Daryl kicks off his boots and slips into the tent. Wordlessly taking the offered food, I don't even get a chance to pull the plate from his grip, his fingers tightening around it forcing me to look into the demanding blue eyes.

Rolling my own, I sigh, "That woman, Carol, has a poor excuse for a husband."

"He put his hands on ya?"

"Lucky shot while I was trying to walk away," I respond curtly, still pretty sour about leaving my guard down for a second.

"Why the hell is he still hangin' 'round here? That brother of yers ain't beat the shit outta him yet?"

Snorting, I shake my head again, "No. Pretty sure I got my point across when I laid him out. Guess it's pretty good that Colt literally beat my self-defense into me. It's more like...running on instinct rather than second guessing or going through a whole list of possibilities in a fight."

Finally able to take my plate, I take a bite of the meat before glancing up at my suddenly silent companion, "Thought you were tailing a deer?"

"I am. Have it marked off fer tomorrow," he states, leaning against the side of one of the cots in the tent, "Can ya do me a favor?" Nodding as I chew, I watch curiously as he nervously looks away, "Can ya not go bathin' by yerself anymore?"

Swallowing slowly, I muse over how to respond and Jamie pops in my head, causing me to lean forward, giving the nervous hunter a small smirk, "Were you spying on me Daryl Dixon?"

"Good Lord, no, I wasn't spyin' on ya, woman," he replies, causing me to let out a small giggle as he shakes his head, "But Carol's husband was."

Shuddering, I nod slowly, "Was wondering if my mind was playing tricks on me or not. How'd you know that?"

"Trackin' the deer along the waterline and saw him in the brush. Told 'im if I ever catch 'im doin' sum'thin like that again, I was gonna put a bolt in his ass and leave 'im fer the Walkers."

Cackling at his words, I take a sip of water before nodding, "Thanks for protecting my honor, I suppose."

He nods almost mechanically and I muse over his lack of amusement. Shrugging it off, I polish off the last of the food and grin at him, "Well, thanks for bringing me dinner. I'd probably starve if it wasn't for you."

Snorting, he nods, "Ain't that the truth."

* * *

Wielding two, thick sticks as if they were wooden batons, I try to keep my breathing steady as each swipe and strike of the sticks meets the one's in Colt's grasp. It may not seem like much, but ever since I came back with that sword, Colt insists on my muscle memory hones the right kind of reflexes. Ducking under a swipe, I raise one of the sticks to block the other incoming blow, my opposing hand smacking the side of the stick against his midsection. The movements are all together quick and seemingly effortless, but I can feel the burn along my arms and the tension in my back from standing in the same position. I sometimes hate any kind of physical training I get into with Colt. The man's a fucking drill sergeant, and no...that isn't a pun.

"Break."

Letting out a thankful gasp, I take a much needed gulp from the water bottle before sitting down along the shoreline of the lake, crossing my legs once again, "Hey, Colt?" Hearing a grunt as he cups his hands in the cool lake water to splash on his face, I continue, "Why would a woman stay married to an abusive spouse?"

"Some women have become so used to it, so dependent upon their spouse, that they don't know how to live without them. Some fear being alone more than the abuse. Some stay in the feeble hopes that their spouse will cease the abuse. It's hard to tell, really," Colt replies, glancing over at me, "You're asking because of that Carol woman?"

"Yeah. I just don't understand how someone would willingly live with it," I muse thoughtfully.

Colt shrugs, unsure of what to say, "That's one thing I know I never have to worry about. You aren't weak willed. You don't scare easy."

"Of course not," I snort, "I'm a Livingston, remember."

Chuckling, Colt nods, "Exactly. For all we know, Carol could have been abused her whole life and is just...used to it."

"It's pathetic if you ask me. Why would you let your own child be around someone like that? Father or not?"

"You're asking the wrong person, Charlie."

Nodding, I groan as he calls the break over. Moving to my legs, I barely get a chance to ready myself before ducking under another swipe of a stick. Definitely a drill sergeant.

* * *

"Tell me ya didn't get into another fight."

Exhaling a ring of smoke, I chuckle at Daryl, who plops down on the RV roof, taking one of the cigarettes I offered, "Colt is a drill sergeant. We've been practicing upper-body reflexes so I can handle the sword I snagged from the pawn shop. Believe me, this is nothing compared to when he was teaching me actual hand-to-hand defense. I swear he left me as a pile of bruises each day."

"Yer definitely a strange one," Daryl comments lightly.

"Strike out on the deer again?" Seeing him nod, I muse over the distant gleam in his eyes, "I'm sure he's okay. Your brother," I elaborate when he cocks an eyebrow at me, "I'm sure he's okay. Last I hear, you guys are too stubborn to die by the hands of a Walker."

Daryl snorts, but nods in agreement, "Yeah. I should be able to catch the deer tomorrow. Maybe cook up some venison."

"Sounds...delicious."

He snorts, "City freak."

"Backwater hick," I shoot back, earning a chuckle.

The sense of calm falling over the camp is foreboding. I don't like it. It's almost...too calm. Too quiet.

* * *

**Because you guys were so awesome, I decided to give a quick update. Next chapter marks the beginning of the first season, starting from episode two, 'Guts'. Let me know what you guys think. I hope Charlie doesn't seem too harsh on Carol, but you have to understand, Charlie doesn't understand why someone would stick around while being abused.**

**DementorsKiss95: Thank you so much! I'm glad you are enjoying Charlie's story.**

**Winterfellsfallenangel: Always 'moar' from you. Honestly woman!**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: I promise, Charlie/Glenn friendship will be in the making during the next few chapters.**

**For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:**

**Freckles the Wanderer  
Paper Grenade  
Pein's Kid  
Ravenclaw Slytherin  
shyannene  
winterfellsfallenqueen  
kore12191  
Hannie88  
Lilly72  
Marizhka18  
DementorsKiss95  
lilhanna  
shmalana  
jalannas  
kelizabeth13  
kittykat195  
**

**Coming Next Chapter: Merle gets locked on a roof in Atlanta? We already knew that! What does Charlie think of Rick? What will happen when Charlie joins the rescue group? Can she keep Daryl from blowing up? What happens when Mexicans get involved?**

**THANKS AGAIN! You guys are awesome! Leave reviews and let me know what you think!**


	8. Part 1-8: Havoc

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are form ed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out t h ere, but I want to take my shot at it . The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up i n to different Parts, following the Seasons . Th is story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me kn ow what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping i t as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Eight**  
_Havoc_

* * *

_(n) 1. a chaotic situation_

* * *

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The mantra repeats in my head as I watch Amy and Andrea embrace, Morales greeted by his entire family as Glenn explains a new guy helping them escape the city. Rick Grimes. Father of Carl. Husband of Lori. Best friend of Officer Dickhead. Ouch. That one has to burn. I muse for a moment over the inevitable conclusion when I realize no one else is climbing out of the truck. No loud-mouth, racist yells. No perverted remark. Merle wasn't here.

Shit.

I know Daryl said he isn't going to be back until tomorrow morning, said he had gotten close to catching the deer. Standing along the edge of the camp as they explain Merle being handcuffed to a roof, T-Dog not wanting to back down from his wrong-doings. I have to give the man credit. At least he's willing to own up on it. I shake my head, walking over to Isaac. Whispering in his ear, I pull back to see his gaze grow conflicted before he nods in agreement.

"Excuse me, Miss?" Isaac gives me a pointed look before leaving me alone with the new arrival. "My name is Rick Grimes. Lori mentioned you were close with the Dixon's."

"Your point?" I ask, my fingers tapping against the outside of my thigh.

"I apologize for what I had to do. Merle was out of control," Rick tries to reason.

Shaking my head, I raise a hand, causing him to fall silent, "It's not me you have to worry about. Merle is the only family Daryl has and you left him on the roof in the middle of a Walker-infested city. News flash, Officer Friendly, I can only tolerate Merle on a good day and even I think it's fucked up."

I'm surprised when I see the self-deprecating gleam in his eyes as he bows his head slightly, "I know. I just wanted you to know that I plan on making this right."

"Good luck with that," I retort, earning a shocked look and I shrug, "Seriously. Good luck. Daryl can be a real piece of work on a good day."

* * *

"Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon? He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind?"

Taking a long drag from the cigarette, I have to give a hand to Dale. The man may not like Merle more than anyone else, but his concern for how it will effect my friend is evident in the way he speaks. T-Dog once again opts to tell Daryl, Rick arguing that it should be him. I give a small smirk as Glenn makes a comment about race, causing T-Dog to scoff, saying that he isn't going to run from his mistakes. Again. I have to give the black man props.

"We could lie," Amy suggests and I glare in her direction.

Unfortunately, the bullshit spewed from Andrea's lips are no better. Telling Daryl his brother was handcuffed to a roof because he was a danger? Yeah. That's bound to go over well. My scoff seems to echo Dale's insistence that no matter how it is said, it won't be a pretty sight.

"Why don't you tell him, Charlie?"

Glancing up from the campfire, I give Officer Dickhead a pointed look, "Must I do everything for you officer? I wasn't even there."

"But, it would sound better coming from you," Andrea agrees, "You and Daryl are friends."

"What's your point, Blondie? You guys don't want to own up, then you better hand your balls over to someone that can, because I sure as hell am not going to break this news to him," I argue, glaring at the oldest of the blonde sisters.

"Charlie's right," Glenn says and for the first time since they came back, I flash the Asian a small smile, "It would be wrong of us to put her in that position. This isn't telling someone their family member was in a car accident, or arrested or something. This is bigger than that."

"I'm not going to ask...Charlie?" I nod at Rick's questioning tilt, "I'm not going to ask Charlie to tell Daryl. I cuffed him. It's on me as much as it is on any of us that were there."

Snorting at the honor-driven mindset, I stand up from my seat, stretching my arms above my head, "Like I said, Officer Friendly. Good luck. You're gonna need it."

Sauntering off, I slip into the tent. I fear for what the morning brings.

* * *

The scream of a child causes me to look up from the lake, my body immediately shooting up from my usual position on the large rock. Taking off toward the scream, I duck and weave around trees, only to come upon the men of the camp beating a Walker into the ground. Dale's ax severs the head of the living dead from its body and the group relaxes. Well, all but me. Seeing the arrows stuck into the backside of the deer lying on the ground, I shift my weight when a rustling sounds from surrounding brush. I drop my gaze as a familiar brown-haired hunter steps out of the brush, his gaze immediately landing on the gnawed throat of the deer.

"Son o'bitch," he cusses, his annoyance obvious obvious as he starts kicking the dead corpse.

Shaking my head, I turn on heel and head back to camp, Daryl's irritation only growing as Dale admonishes his actions. Catching Isaac's worried gaze, I shake my head again, the sorrow growing in my heart as I hear Daryl call out for Merle. Shane is the first to try and tell Daryl and it isn't until Rick steps in to explain what happened that Daryl lunges for the new arrival. I may not know Rick all that well, but I can see the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks calmly to Daryl. Sharing a look with Isaac, who nods in the direction of our tent, I turn on heel and slip inside.

"You're going, aren't you?" Colt's voice asks, his voice strained by the need to protect me, but understanding this is something I have to do.

"If it was you trapped on a roof, Daryl would do the same," I reply as I strap the sheath of the _pian dao_ across my back, the hilt of the Chinese sabre resting against the back of my right shoulder, "I'm sorry, Colt. It's just something I have to do."

"I know. Just...be careful."

Giving him a mocking salute, I finish hooking my knife to the waistband of my cargo pants before sliding out of the tent.

"You don't see anyone else steppin' up to save your brother's cracker ass."

Despite the situation, I snort inwardly at T-Dog's words. I'm starting to like the black man. He knows exactly what he's heading back to, but he's willing to do it to fix his mistake. Make it right.

"You're risking four of our men, and a woman, to save Merle Dixon?" At least Officer Dickhead isn't that blind. "You saw that Walker. You're not only putting your group at risk, but this camp too. We need every able body here, to protect camp."

"What you need is more guns," Rick states, his eyes gleaming with confusion, "And I'm not bringing any women."

Officer Dickhead snorts, pointing in my direction, "You tell her that. Woman's more stubborn than most of the men in this camp."

Cracking a smirk, I shrug my shoulder at Rick's questioning glance, "Man's got a point."

Walking off toward the moving van, I climb into the back, giving Glenn a curt nod. Feeling the van dip under a new weight, I glance over to see Daryl climbing in after me, his eyes appearing even bluer than usual as the anger flushes through him. Seeing the dead stare in my direction, I feel my arms fold themselves over my chest out of habit.

"What?"

"Y'ain't comin'," he bites out.

"You think I'm doing this for you?" I shoot back, giving him a pointed glare, "Sorry, Daryl, but I'm doing this for Merle, not you."

Turning away from his gaze, I muse over whether or not my words were believable. I know Daryl well enough that he'll never forgive himself if I went for his sake and something happened. No. It's best if he believes I am here for the only reason that it was wrong what they did to Merle. Daryl steps forward, pushing Glenn to the side, slamming his foot onto the horn.

"C'mon, let's go!" His impatience clear.

Boy, this is going to be one hell of a ride.

* * *

"M'sorry."

As if we are back in camp, sitting up on the roof of the RV, I glance over as Daryl slides down the wall of the trailer, sitting down to my left. His arms rest on the top of his bent knees, his head falling back to rest against the trailer wall. Seeing the weary, sorrow etched into his face, I nod slowly, nudging him with my elbow.

"Merle's a Dixon."

My words earn a snort as he shakes his head, "What do I do? If he's one o'em?"

"Do what is proper and expected and put him out of his misery," I say slowly, hoping it doesn't sound as cruel as the words may seem. "Colt, Isaac and I already made a pact after this started that if we were ever to become one of those things, or get bit by one, we'd put a bullet in their head."

"You think you can really shoot your own flesh and blood?" he asks, glancing over at me.

Shrugging, I offer him one last cigarette, "The way I see it, these days, that is considered a Last Will and Testament. It's like requesting to be cremated instead of buried."

"Never thought o'it like that," he admits, taking a drag from the cigarette. "Thanks. Fer comin'."

Nodding, I remain silence as I feel a heavy blanket of comfort fall between us. Yes. Comfort. The only comfort I feel we will have for awhile.

* * *

"Merle first? Or the guns?"

I snort at Rick's question as Daryl shoves pass him, "Merle. We ain't even havin' this conversation."

"We are."

I'm only thankful when Glenn insists going for the guns would be out of the way. Ducking through the opening of the gate, I stretch my arms over my head before breaking into a sprint. Boy do I hate running. Merle better be damn thankful for this. Peering around buildings and dashing down alleyways, I follow the group into a store, keeping an eye out in case we are followed.

"Damn," Daryl's voice murmurs through the silence as a female Walker stares him down, "Yer one ugly skank."

I muse over the idea that the Walker understood his words at it lets out a growl, moving as if to attack him. Shaking my head as the corpse thuds against the ground, a bolt pierced through its skull, I locate the staircase and give a low whistle. Daryl looks up from pulling his bolt from the Walker's head and I nod toward the staircase. Once again following the men, I listen as the chain locking the door is cut, a foot slamming against it, forcing it open and allowing us entrance to the roof.

"Merle! Merle!"

My stomach churns at the sight of the empty roof, a pair of bloody handcuffs hanging from the metal cooling system running along the roof. I swallow the bile in my throat as my gaze drops to the severed hand lying on the roof, only a few feet away from a bloody hack-saw.

"No!"

My actions are immediate as he whirls around, crossbow aimed at T-Dog. Ignoring the shuddering nerves along every muscle of my body and the tightness in my chest, my arm loops around his chest from behind, my arm pressed diagonally across his chest as my fingers grip his left shoulder. Seeing the gun in Rick's hand, the barrel pressed against the side of my friend's head, I panic, hoping with all that I have that Daryl doesn't do anything stupid.

* * *

**Alright! As most of you know, this is where Season One kicks off with Rick, Daryl, Glenn and T-Dog beginning their hunt for Merle and the guns. I skimmed through most of the episode, because as I've stated, most know what happens and unless Charlie is directly involved, I'm not going to list everything that happens. It would be like reading the entire show, and after awhile, it becomes tedious.**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: You are so a Minion. I've had you marked as a Minion since Chapter Two! The only reason why Daryl didn't do worse is because I figured he is still new to friendships and isn't sure how far he should react in a given situation. I figured Charlie/Daryl interactions are slightly awkward as they are both relatively unsure how to respond or how to act. I encourage longer reviews because it lets me know what you guys like and what you guys want to see happen as the story progresses. There will be times where I ask at the end of each chapter what you guys want, because I honestly want to know. Thanks again. I'm glad you love me...and my story. (grins)**

**Pein's Kid: Yes. Yay for Merle/Charlie understanding. Charlie merely tolerates Merle, as Merle tolerates Charlie.**

**For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:**

**Freckles the Wanderer  
Paper Grenade  
Pein's Kid  
Ravenclaw Slytherin  
shyannene  
winterfellsfallenqueen  
kore12191  
Hannie88  
Lilly72  
Marizhka18  
DementorsKiss95  
lilhanna  
shmalana  
jalannas  
kelizabeth13  
kittykat195  
**

**Coming Next Chapter: Charlie tries to shake away the tension in her body. Daryl leads the hunt for Merle. Glenn grows a pair and runs to retrieve the guns. What happens when the Vatos get involved? Will Charlie ever stop laughing about Daryl putting a bolt in the ass of a Vatos? **

**THANKS AGAIN! You guys are awesome! Leave reviews and let me know what you think!**


	9. Part 1-9: Inconsiderate

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are form ed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out t h ere, but I want to take my shot at it . The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up i n to different Parts, following the Seasons . Th is story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me kn ow what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping i t as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Nine**  
_Inconsiderate _

* * *

_(n) 1. insensitive to other 2. reckless_

* * *

"I won't hesitate. I don't care if I every Walker in the city hears it."

Rick's calm, matter-of-fact tone causes Daryl to drop his aim and the moment I feel the tension leave him, I push away from his back. Stumbling slightly, I swallow the lump in my throat, my palms rubbing against my pant legs. The ringing in my ears blocks out Daryl's words as he assesses Merle's escape, folding the hand in T-Dog's do-rag. The heavy, quick pounding of my heart inside my chest seems to pump more blood than my body can handle, the rush flowing through my body. Biting down on my bottom lip, I fight back the psychological pain registering in my mind, my hands shaking from the effort.

"Charlie," I blink, the endless recycled numbness fading from my thoughts as I look over, Rick's concerned gaze locked on me, "Are you alright?"

"Y-Yeah," I curse inwardly, shifting my body as I look away again. "I'm fine."

Curling and uncurling my fingers, I inhale deeply, trying to get rid of the nervous tension. I hate it. It's a curse, this nervousness. I know I have no reason to have such irrational fear when it comes to Daryl. It doesn't matter though. I hardly touch my own siblings, my own family, for an extended amount of time. Closing my eyes, I inhale again, feeling the nerves settle.

"C'mon. His trail leads down here."

Shaking my head, I follow after Daryl and Rick, offering Glenn a forced smile. Moving into the building, I inwardly snort as Daryl calls down the stairs for his brother. He's letting his anger cloud his judgment. His yelling is going to attract the attention of Walkers if he keeps it up. Sighing, I muse over what people do for family. Moving through the building, I watch as Daryl puts another bolt through yet another Walker before we come across two dead Walkers laid out on the ground.

"Had enough in him to take out these two sons a'bitches," Daryl muses aloud, "One handed."

Seeing the steady, observant gaze, I realize this is the hunter. He's hunting down his prey. Following the trail. Leaving nothing to chance. Able to read a situation quickly and effectively. A small smile tugs at my lips. I never have seen him in hunter-mode before. It's kind of...refreshing.

"Toughest asshole I've ever met, my brother," Daryl comments to the silent audience as he pulls back the string, latching it at the ready, "Feed 'im a hammer and he'll crap out nails."

This time, I don't bother hiding my amusement. From the short time I've known Merle, I can see what Daryl means. Listening as Rick comments about men of any caliber passing out from blood loss, I follow after as we enter what looks to be a kitchenette area. The sight of burning oil canisters, a bloody belt and a small, hand-held iron made of of old cast-iron, I swallow the bile after seeing the burnt skin attached to the flat of the iron. Cauterized the wound. Merle has to be the biggest dumb shit with a knack for survival I've ever met.

When we realize Merle managed to escape into the city, T-Dog agrees to help search for the oldest Dixon brother but not without those guns. Glenn uses a whiteboard to map out a plan and I listen from my place against the wall. Looking down at my hands, I glare at them out of habit. Why does it have to be so hard? I was trying to comfort him, I suppose. _Me_. This wasn't someone else touching me without my knowledge. So why does it still hurt? Why do I still tense?

"Hey," Snapping out of my thoughts, I pull my gaze from the floor to see Daryl awkwardly shift in his stance a few feet in front of me, "Y'alright? Ain't ever heard ya so quiet before."

"I'm fine," I wince at the monotony of my voice, trying to ignore the subtle head tilt silently voicing his confusion, "Just hoping we find your brother."

"Y'know, I ain't ever heard ya lie to me neither."

Cursing his observation, I shrug, "I am fine. Just trying to shake away my nerves."

He nods and I look away from the suspicious gaze, "Yer comin' with the Asian and me. He says that sword o'yers is quiet. In case his way is blocked comin' back."

"Sounds good to me," I reply, trailing after him as Glenn leads us onto the roof of this building.

Climbing down the ladder, I drop down after Daryl, crouching as I follow the two to the fenced off area. Pausing at a dumpster, I remove my sword from its sheath as Daryl pulls the string of his crossbow taunt.

"Ya' got sum balls fer a Chinaman," Daryl quips.

"I'm Korean."

"Whatever."

Once again, I find myself letting out a muffled laugh at the repartee between the two. Nodding to Glenn, signaling the I have him covered, I watch as he dashes down the street. Peering after him, I groan inwardly when I lose sight of him.

"Woah, don't shoot me! What do you want?"

"I'm lookin' fer my brother. He's hurt real bad. You seen 'im?"

Hoping that Daryl has it under control, I pull my gaze away from the street when the newcomer yells out, "_Ayúdame_!"

"Jesus fuck, Daryl. Shut him up!" I hiss, as the kid keeps shouting.

Sheathing my sword as Daryl hits the boy, both of us trying to cup his mouth shut, I lean down, "Are you out of your fucking mind? You're gonna get us all killed yelling like that."

I barely hear the rushed footsteps approaching before a foot slams into Daryl's side, my own body pulled off of the boy. Grunting as my back hits the brick wall, a large fist connecting with my stomach, I growl as my boot-clad foot snaps up, connecting with the man's knee. Hearing them call out about a bag of guns, I glance over to see Glenn peering at us in shock. A fist connects with the side of my head, causing me to stumble back. Catching myself as the two men race after Glenn, one of the Mexicans screaming in pain as a bolt sinks into the meat of his ass. My fingers curl around the front of Glenn's shirt as they try to pull him toward a getaway car.

Tension fills me as unknown and unseen hands grab at me, pulling me with Glenn. Kicking and punching at every which way, I stumble back a few times, only to lunge at them again. The nervous tension is back as arms wrap around my waist, hoisting me in the air and instinctively, I bring my elbow back and up, feeling it connect with someone's face. Shaking from the psychological torture and the need to save Glenn, I barely notice the gleam of silver flash out of the corner of my eye.

"Charlie!"

My body hits the ground, the aluminum baseball bat connecting with the side of my head, and I groan, squealing tires and Glenn's cries for help echoing around the dizzy sensation in my head. Even through my blurry vision, I grunt as I push to my feet, my legs shaking as my body threatens to give into the pain, but my brain fighting it off at the sight of Walkers filling the area. Removing my sword from its sheath, the blade slicing through the decayed skull of one, I let out a yelp when a pair of hands grabs the back of my shirt, yanking me back into the alley. The moment my back hits the ground, angry blue eyes peering down at me, the shadows playing with my vision manages to take over and I plunge into the darkness.

* * *

"Work sum'thin out? This bastard and his homies jumped us!" The familiar righteous fury pulls me from the darkness of my mind and my eyes slowly blink open, finding myself staring at a ceiling, "Did you not see one o'em hit her with a baseball bat? Should feed his ass to the Walkers and be done with it."

Blinking back the pain blossoming in the side of my head, I turn my gaze to either side, finding myself looking into the dark brown eyes of T-Dog, "Yo! Daryl, she's awake."

"Stupid motherfucker is lucky," Daryl's voice grumbles before familiar blue eyes fills my field of vision, rough, calloused hands dropping on my shoulder.

Flinching at the touch, I look away from the hurt confusion as I slowly push myself upright, "The fuck happened?" Gingerly shaking my head, trying to clear the proverbial cobwebs, I feel my eyes widen as the memories come flooding back, "Glenn! Where the fuck did those assholes take Glenn?"

"S'what we're tryin' ta find out," Daryl states, carefully helping me to my feet.

Spying the boy sitting on the ground, fear clouding his gaze, I glance over at the blue-eyed hunter. Cocking an eyebrow at him, I receive a smug grin as he shrugs and nods his head in a direction a few feet away from the boy. Upon seeing the severed hand, I chuckle inwardly. Running a hand through my hair, I hiss as my fingers brush along a tender spot, my gaze moving back to Daryl.

"Do I remember correctly? You shot a bolt in some Mexican's ass?"

Daryl looks away in an awkward manner, "Told ya before. Sum'one puts his hands on ya, I'm puttin' a bolt in their ass. S'what friends do, right?"

Not typically, but the sentiment is universal. Giving him a small smile, I nod before turning to see Rick hoist the boy up from the ground. Approaching them, legs still shaking, I pause in front of the boy. A gleam of guilt flickers in his gaze and the tension grows in his body as I stare pointedly at him.

"Didn't know you were a _chica_. We don't hurt women."

Looking down at the halter top hugging the ample curves of my chest, I bring my gaze back up to the boy, plastering on a fake smile. Seeing the guilt leave his mind, I don't think twice before slamming my fist into the bridge of his nose. Feeling Rick put a hand against my shoulder, I tense, stumbling away from the touch and give the officer a pointed glare.

"_Don't touch me_," I hiss out, my nerves already too fried from too much skin-to-skin contact. "Now, boy. You're going to lead us to your friends, or I'll do us all a favor and put a bullet in your leg and force you to walk the streets. No more games. You fucked with the wrong Livingston."

* * *

**I'm in such a good mood, that I updated already! Haven't checked reviews from last update, so next chapter will feature responses to reviewers of both chapters (Eight and Nine). Thanks to all that have read, reviewed and become Minions. You guys really have no idea how much your reviews get me pumped up! Ha! Hope you guys see what I did there with the arrow in the ass. Remember...his warning to Ed. hahaha...I'm awesome like that.**

**For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:**

**Freckles the Wanderer  
Paper Grenade  
Pein's Kid  
Ravenclaw Slytherin  
shyannene  
winterfellsfallenqueen  
kore12191  
Hannie88  
Lilly72  
Marizhka18  
DementorsKiss95  
lilhanna  
shmalana  
jalannas  
kelizabeth13  
kittykat195  
**

**Coming Next Chapter: The Vatos want the guns? Charlie wants a shot at the guy that hit her with a baseball bat. Will Guillermo let her take her shot? Will the leader of the Vatos become offended when Charlie asks if they need an exterminator? Real terrifying dogs. Tune in to the next chapter!**

**THANKS AGAIN! You guys are awesome! Leave reviews and let me know what you think!**


	10. Part 1-10: Justice

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are form ed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out t h ere, but I want to take my shot at it . The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up i n to different Parts, following the Seasons . Th is story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me kn ow what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping i t as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Ten**  
_Justice_

* * *

_(n) 1. Lawfulness 2. Fairness_

* * *

The large brick building the little Mexican leads us to is looming, closed off from the main streets. Windows boarded up with only one door leading inside. Listening as Rick and T-Dog go over the plan, T-Dog acting as a sniper on the roof while we approach the building. Daryl has been anything but complaint since I've woken up, the little Mexican continuing to egg him on. The tension within the group mounts only higher as we ready ourselves for what is to come.

"One wrong move and ya get an arrow in the ass. Just so y'know," Daryl quips to the boy sitting on the ground.

The cocky little bastard smirks, "G's gonna take that arrow out of my ass and shove it up yours. Just so you know."

"G?"

The Mexican boy shifts at Rick's question, "Guillermo. He's the man here."

"Okay then. Let's go see Guillermo," Rick states, cocking the gun, glancing over at Daryl.

Remaining silent, I follow as the boy leads us through a makeshift path, a broken window bringing us further into what looks like an old warehouse block. Catching Daryl's gaze as I let out a small hiss, my ribs contracting with small pain from the asshole that hit me, I give him a shrug and a small smile, wordlessly telling him I've had worse. Maybe not a baseball bat to the face, but worse than a bruised rib cage. Hearing the doors slide open, I straighten up, ignoring the sharp pain as a man exits the building.

"You okay, little man?" the mocha-skinned man before us asks, his gaze settling on our captive. The boy mentions something about cutting off his feet and I glance over at Daryl, snorting slightly at the smirk that plays on his face for a brief moment, "Cops do that?"

"Not him. This redneck _puto_ here. Cut off some man's hand. Showed it to me."

Realizing what happened, I bite down on the inside of my cheek, the amusement giving me a reprieve from the pain running through my body. The tension returns as two familiar men step out of the building, one of them holding his backside, cursing Daryl about shooting him in the ass. I have to hand it to Rick, the man knows how to stay calm under pressure, Guillermo and Rick going back and forth about the bag of guns that had been left in the street. After Rick points out T-Dog on the roof, Guillermo calls out and I glance up to see two men holding Glenn over the edge of the roof.

"Glenn!" I cry out, fresh anger flooding through my veins at the sight of his fear, even from down here.

"I see only two options. You come back with Miguel and my bag of guns. Or you come back locked and loaded."

Growling at the audacity of the man, I lunge forward, only to be stopped as a muscled arm stretches out in front of me, keeping me from advancing on the man, "You pompous fuck."

"Hey," Rick calls out, glancing over at me, silently urging me to stay calm.

Inhaling deeply, a growl leaves my lips as I step away from Daryl's touch, stalking back the way we came. Stupid motherfuckers, I hiss inwardly. They'll get theirs.

* * *

"Guns are worth more than gold, right now. Gold don't feed yer family, or keep 'em safe. Y'really willin' t'give all that up fer Glenn?" Daryl's voice asks.

Sitting back on one of the desks in the room, I listen as Rick explains how Glenn saved his life, without knowing who he is. Hearing the others opt out of returning to camp without Rick, I shake my head, mutely agreeing to follow with him. When Rick admits he didn't say he was giving up the guns, Daryl nods before helping him assemble ammo into the weapons. Knowing we're about to head back out, I stand up from my spot, wincing as the pain pinches along my sides.

"Y'sure yer gonna be alright?" Daryl asks lowly as he finishes loading the shotgun.

Nodding, I give him a small smile, "I'll be fine. Although, I haven't asked Miguel what Guillermo will react when he hears his men beat on a single woman?" Seeing the boy gulp nervously, I smirk, "Oh yeah. Don't worry. I'll be getting my retribution from your _home boys_."

"Guillermo isn't gonna let you kill them."

Snorting, I run a hand along my bruised side, "Who said anything about killing them? No. I'm not in the art of killing people, although, if your _man_ harms one hair on Glenn's head, you can bet your ass, Guillermo is going to be walking around missing an appendage."

Taking the two hand guns from Daryl, I pause when his grip refuses to loosen, my gaze turning on him, "What?"

"Make sure y'find sumthin cold t'put on yer ribs," he insists, low enough so the others don't listen in.

I muse over why him showing care for a friend bothers him so much, but I shrug the thought aside as I nod, "Of course. Is this before, or after, you force me to eat."

Earning a snort, I chuckle as I take a strip of white cloth and grab Miguel by the back of his head, yanking him by the short strands of his hair. As his mouth opens to yell out a slur of Hispanic insults, I slide the cloth between his mouth, tying the end at the back of his head. Reaching up, I slap that back of his head, earning a muffled yell, his face growing red. Turning back to the guys, I shrug at the questioning look from Rick.

"Just testing it. Last thing we need to deal with are Walkers with this _culo estúpido_ shouting at the top of his lungs every five minutes," I snicker at the sight of Miguel's eyes widening, "That's right, _niño pequeño_, my best friend dated a Latino man for three years. Tend to pick up on things after awhile."

Daryl grabs the kid by the shirt and shoves him toward the door, Rick leading the way as we move through the familiar pathway. Arriving before the doors, I share a glance with Daryl as we move into the darkness of the building, Guillermo standing in the middle of his group. Rick cuts away the duct tape binding the boys wrists together and shoves him forward, demanding Glenn be returned to us.

"I'm gonna chop up your boy. I'm gonna feed him to my dogs. Three of the nastiest little bitches you've ever seen. Picked up from Satan at a yard sale. I told you the deal. Are you woefully deaf?"

Woefully? Who the fuck says woefully? I muse inwardly as Rick retorts with an easy 'I heard you', cocking his gun and aiming it between the man's eyes. The reaction is instant, Daryl, T-Dog and I each raising our weapons, my gaze focused on the two men that jumped me and Daryl.

"Filippe," an old woman's voice calls over the stand-off.

Seeing the old woman in a dressing gown step forward, I immediately drop my aim. I don't hurt innocents. Not my style. Apparently, neither does Daryl, who demands for them to get her out of his line of fire. Confusing Rick for a cop arriving to arrest her grandson, I share a glance with Daryl when the old woman mentions the 'nice Asian boy', taking Rick by the arm to lead him further into the building.

* * *

A nursing home! We were so close to open firing on a place full of sick, elderly people! Even though I'm pleased Glenn is alright, I am practically seething from my place against the office door, listening as Guillermo and Rick exchange words. Out of the kindness of his bleeding heart, Rick grants Guillermo a few weapons and a few boxes of ammo.

"Are you in need of medical attention, _chica_," Guillermo asks, noticing the bruising along the side of my head as we exit the office.

"No. I don't need medical attention. I seek retribution on one of your men," I state, ignoring Rick's hiss for me to stop, "See, I was told you are a man of honor. You don't believe in harming women."

"Hell no. _M__i padre_ would make me wish for the Biters if he would ever see me do something like that," Guillermo responds with a small chuckle.

"You instruct your men to do the same, yes?" Guillermo nods slowly, "Well, see, my family has always been about owning up to your wrong-doings and taking the punishment," the Hispanic man walking alongside me smiles, nodding as if he can understand the sentiment, "Then it wouldn't be wrong of me to hand out the punishment for the men that jumped my friend and I?"

Guillermo turns his gaze on Jorge and Filippe, "You put your hands on a woman?"

Filippe raises his hands in defense, "We showed up and pulled them off of Miguel. She doesn't look like a woman from the back. Honest, G."

Quirking an eyebrow, I glance over my shoulder and down, doing a little display of looking at my ass, turning with the motion before I stop, "Hm...I didn't know I looked like a guy from the back. What do you think, Daryl? Do I look like a man?" Daryl's gaze darkens before he glances off to the side, a snort the only response I get, "See. That was Daryl-ese for 'You're fuckin' stupid'. In all fairness, though, it's not Filippe I'm after."

"Why not? He put his hands on you," Guillermo questions, his dark gaze curious.

Running a hand along my injured side, I nod slowly, "Oh, yeah. My ribs are a constant reminder, but unfortunately, he already earned his dues. That bolt in the ass was his payment, at least it was enough for me."

"So, what did Jorge do to cause need for payment?"

Giving the 'man' a dumbfounded look, I point to the bruised side of my head, "Do you see what your _home boy_, did to my face? With a fucking baseball bat? So, instead of killing him like I'd like to," I wiggle my fingers in front of my face, "I say, five shots. No weapons. Just my bare hands."

"What? G, you can't be serious."

Snorting at the man, Daryl bites out, "What? Y'too much a'pussy? She coulda gone with hittin' ya with the bat, which I think she shoulda done."

Guillermo nods, as if an agreement with Daryl, "The redneck has a point, Jorge. Her being a woman isn't exactly hidden very well."

"Look. Just five punches, if you want, I'll even treat you like the bitch you are and use an open hand," I respond.

Jorge swallows back his pride and nods. Without waiting for the go-ahead, I bring the heel of my hand to the bridge of his nose, ignoring the yell of agony as the cartilage breaks under the blow. Curling my fingers into a fist, I rear my arm back before landing a blow to the side of his face. As he stumbles back, my hand catches him by the back of his head and I bring him down, my knee ramming into the side of his head. I pause at the sight of him laid out on the ground and knowing I can't hit a man while he's down, I stand straight and step back, away from the man.

"Y'still have two shots."

I shrug, hands slipping into my pockets, "Not going to beat up an unconscious man. Oh, and Guillermo," Getting the man's attention, I nod to the three Chihuahuas laying in a basket, "I think you have a severe pest problem. I didn't think rats grew any large than those found in New York City."

"Those are my dogs, _chica_."

Snorting, I shake my head, "Those are over-grown rats with shorter tails and just as annoying."

"Come on, guys. Let's get back to camp."

Giving Guillermo a mocking salute, I follow after Rick as we take to the streets, once again the group whole with Glenn trailing close behind. Pulling my sword from its sheath as we race through the streets, I slam into the back of Daryl. Cursing under my breath, Daryl shoots me a glare before motioning to the missing van. Shit! Merle must have taken the van.

"Stupid motherfucker. I'm going to kill your brother the next time we see him," I state to Daryl.

"Why?"

"First I run around this disease-infested city looking for his dumb ass and _now_ he's the reason I have to hike my ass back to camp? Yeah, your brother's going to get another thing coming to him."

Instead of getting upset, Daryl lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head, "Only y'would be angry 'bout havin' t'walk."

"Shut up, backwater hick."

"City slacker."

The group falls silent as we sprint through the woods, heading straight for the quarry. Groaning at the weariness in my legs and the pain in my body, I plead for a nice, long soak in the lake. Curling up in my tent with a book. Sitting up on the RV with a smoke or two.

All thoughts of relaxing fades from my head as piercing screams echo over the hill leading to the camp. Breaking over the crest of the hill, I don't hesitate as I toss my two guns to Rick, racing forward as I remove my sword from its sheath. Walkers have succeeded in invading the camp. Gunshots and screams pierce through the night and my only thought is to search for Melody Livingston.

* * *

**Oh yeah! I'm awesome! All of you are awesome too! For reviewers!**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: Yes. And Yes! lol...that's all I have to say!**

**Winterfellsfallenangel: Duct tape, popcorn and all three seasons and yes...I will forgive you. And as for Charlie reminding you of someone...still don't know who you're talking about.**

**DementorsKiss95: Aww...thanks. It's because of the reviewers that I update so much. lol...can't help it. Story keeps writing itself.**

**For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:**

**Freckles the Wanderer  
Paper Grenade  
Pein's Kid  
Ravenclaw Slytherin  
shyannene  
winterfellsfallenqueen  
kore12191  
Hannie88  
Lilly72  
Marizhka18  
DementorsKiss95  
lilhanna  
shmalana  
jalannas  
kelizabeth13  
kittykat195  
Nyx-Arae  
cbeeapple  
**

**Coming Next Chapter: Uh oh! Is this the moment most of my reviewers have been waiting for? Who lives? Who dies? Will Charlie ever get that smoke? Stay tuned! Leave review! (hahaha...I rhymed...I think)**

**THANKS AGAIN! You guys are awesome! Leave reviews and let me know what you think!**


	11. Part 1-11: Knot

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are form ed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out t h ere, but I want to take my shot at it . The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up i n to different Parts, following the Seasons . Th is story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me kn ow what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping i t as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Eleven**  
_Knot_

* * *

_(v) 1. weave 2. complicate_

* * *

I don't know what to do. Seeing Isaac kneeling at Amy's side, opposite of the sobbing Andrea, I feel my heart constrict, wanting to comfort my step-brother during his loss. Glancing down at my shaking hands, the blackened blood staining my once pale hands. I want to lend a hand, show compassion, but...the very idea causes me to swallow the nervousness down, shuddering at the thought of touching another person. Hearing Daryl comment about the girl being a time bomb, I look over at him. Whatever expression played on my face causes him to scoff as he turns on foot and begins taking a pick-ax to the skulls of the dead.

"Auntie Letty?"

Curling my blood-coated fingers, I cross my arms, not wanting Mel to see the substance on my hands, "Yes, Bright-Eyes?"

"Can I go sit with Uncle Isaac?" Glancing down, my heart breaks at the sight of the sorrowful gaze in the eight-year-old's eyes, "I don't like when he's sad."

Knowing I have to search for the absent Colt, I nod slowly, "If Miss Amy starts moving, I want you to stand behind Uncle Isaac, okay?"

The girl nods and I watch with a heavy heart as the compassionate child curls up on my step-brother's lap. Seeing Isaac instinctively wrap his arms around Mel, I head for my tent. Collecting my Beretta, I check the clip, and slip the gun in my pocket as a just-in-case measure. Not seeing Colt anywhere around the camp of somber refugees, I muse over where my brother could have run off to. Remembering the clearing in the woods he often escaped to, I begin the short trek.

Coming upon the sight of Colt kneeling in front of the standing Natasha, I freeze mid-step. The sight appears all-too-familiar to the memory of Colt asking for his late-wife's hand in marriage. Except, seeing the heavy sorrow written on his face, I shake away the idea, looking over Natasha. Her face is coated in a thin sheen of sweat, her face flushed from heat and I know at my core that it isn't the Southern heatwave that has her looking so warm.

"Colt," I call out curtly, causing both eyes to look over at me, "We have an agreement, yes?"

Colt's sorrow is replaced by anger as he moves to his feet, "Nat wasn't a part of the pact."

"You're willing to bet your daughter's life on that?" I shoot back, squaring off my stance in a silent refusal to back down from this.

"Just because you don't like her, doesn't mean you have a say in this," Colt argues.

Glaring at the thickness of my brother's skull, I cross my arms over my chest, "Last time I checked, the safety of this family has always been and will always be my concern," Removing the gun from my pocket, I raise it, aiming it at the woman, "Either you pull the trigger, or I will."

"You can't do that!" Colt spits out in a fury of anger.

I am surprised when Natasha gives me a small, thankful smile, her tearful eyes sliding shut in muted acceptance. Seeing the reluctance in my brother, I have to hand it to the woman. I still may not like her, but at least she's willing to end it before she becomes a threat. Checking my aim, I inhale deeply, staring at the very human woman in my sights. Swallowing back the inevitable guilt and disgust at the thought of killing a human being, no matter how much I couldn't stand her, she was still a living, breathing human. Curling my index finger around the trigger, I tighten up my stance, bracing myself and clearing the guilt from my mind, I pull back the trigger.

"No!"

As if I don't have enough of a headache. The moment the woman's body crumbles to the ground, my hand shaking at the thought of what I just did, I never see it coming. The sickening crack echoes among the trees, my head snapping to the side as my body forcefully hits the ground. Groaning at the pain added to the already injured side of my face, I blink my eyes open slowly, staring at the sunlight breaking through the canopy of leaves above my head.

"Oh God!" Colt's voice stutters out.

Shaking away the pain, I shudder as another thought flashes through my head. My own brother just _hit me_. Struggling to my feet, I wince at the pain in my skull, my hand lifting to rub at the injured side of my head. Seeing the crimson coating my twitching fingers, I shudder as my gaze meets the shocked eyes of my own flesh and blood. Without a word, I step forward, brushing by the stunned Colt as I kneel at Natasha's side. As I said, I may not like her, but she had still be human. The adrenaline from the fighting done over the past day gives my weary body enough strength and energy to hoist Natasha's body up. Half-carrying, half-dragging the woman's corpse back into camp, I say nothing to Colt. Ignoring the shocked gasps and stares, I struggle to carry Natasha over to where Glenn stood.

"Where do we bury our dead?" I ask, swallowing back the nausea and pain.

Glenn glances up from the burning bodies and his eyes widen, "What happened to your face? I thought it was starting to heal up?"

"Where, Glenn?" I demand, not willing to talk about the incident between me and Colt. "Where do we bury our dead?"

Heading off into the direction the Asian kid points in, my body trembles as it fights against the exhaustion mounting. Carefully lying the woman in one of the graves dug into the ground, I inhale deeply before grabbing a nearby shovel. Shoveling dirt back into the grave site, I ignore the pain, the exhaustion and the heat as I fill every inch around the woman's body. _He promised_, I curse inwardly, _He promised he would be able to handle it._ How could he handle taking out Isaac or even myself? If he can't do it for this woman, how do I know he will keep his word?

"Y''gonna kill yerself."

"Fuck off," I snap, the motion of shoveling more dirt onto the grave having becoming mechanical and repetitious.

A hand lands on my shoulder and I bring my elbow back instantly, hearing a grunt of air leave his lungs before I whirl around on the blue-eyed hunter, "Don't _touch me_," I sneer out, tossing the shovel to the side, "Every time I let someone get anywhere close to touching me, I end up getting hurt. No one else."

The angry irritation fades from his eyes and I watch as his stance straightens, "The hell happen to yer face?"

"A baseball bat, followed by my own brother's fist because he could fucking do it," I lash out, "He couldn't pull the trigger on some wife of his friend. He couldn't pull the trigger so I had to," I shudder, looking down at the blackened blood mixing with crimson from the woman's body, "I had to put a bullet in a living human being. I had to kill her because he _couldn't fucking do it_." My hands bury into my hair, fingers curling around the short locks, "I had to _kill_ someone. I..."

"Y'did what ya had to do."

Feeling the hand on my shoulder again, I jerk back, this time bringing my fist against his chest, causing him to stumble back, "_No!_" I yell out, "I did what _he_ should have done. She was _his_ responsibility. What happens if I get bit? What happens when Isaac gets bit? He can't pull the trigger on this woman, how can I know he can do it for us?" The exhaustion wins over my body, my knees buckling from under my weight and I fall to my knees, "I can't believe I killed someone," I choke out, looking down at my shaking hands, "I...How could he do this to me?"

"If it makes y'feel better, if y'get bit by one o'em, I'll put a bolt in yer head," Daryl's voice is low and calm as he squats down in front of me.

Looking up, I shake my head, choking back the emotional chaos warring within me, "Don't make promises you can't keep, Daryl Dixon." Groaning as black spots invade my vision, my hand raises to my head, fingers rubbing the at the tender spot, "My own brother hit me, Daryl," I mumble somberly, sniffing back the tears threatening to escape, "My own brother...my own flesh and blood. What's this world come to if I can't feel safe around my own brother? What's this world come to if I can't seek the comfort of my brother's arms? He's...he's the only blood I have left...the only person that has never intentionally hurt me. H-how?"

Daryl seems unsure of how to approach the situation, his gaze moving awkwardly between myself and aimlessly somewhere else, before he scratches the back of his neck, "Y'can ride in the truck with me. We're gettin' ready to head out of the camp, once Andrea and Isaac finish burying Amy. Look," His hand extends again, my shoulders tensing, but his fingers twitch, pausing just a few inches away, "y'have gone through more shit in the last twenty-four hours than most in the camp. Y'need to rest. Stop bein' such a pain in the ass and let me help."

I can't be sure if it's because of the mess of emotions in my head, or the utter weariness in my heart and soul, but a small choking laugh leaves my lips. Without realizing it, my body instinctively leans forward, my forehead resting against his shoulder as I feel my body begin to shut down. Groaning as I feel an arm hook under my legs and suddenly nothing is under me, I welcome the warm comfort surrounding me.

"Don'care wat p...ple...say," I murmur, my eyes cracking open the slightest as I stare up at the stoic face of my friend, "Y'good people, Daryl Dixon."

* * *

Waking up to something cool pressing against the side of my head, I groan, eyes sliding open to see Daryl's face inches from my own. The moment of silence gives me a chance to look over the concentration poured into his expression, his eyes darkened with thought. Wordlessly reaching up, I take hold of the ice pack against my face, his eyes blinking as if coming out of his inner monologue.

"I know this might sound weird, but..." I sit upright, realizing I was not in my own tent, "you wouldn't happen to have any food on you, do you? I'm kind of hungry."

Snorting, Daryl nods, holding out some jerky, "Should hold ya over until everyone eats before we head outta here."

"Thanks," he nods once more and I swallow back my pride, "No, really, Daryl. Thanks. I've only known one other person to be such a good friend to me, so...thanks."

"Don't thank me just yet," Daryl murmurs, his eyes only flickering with the smallest amount of guilt, most of it apprehensive, "I may, or may not, have gotten into a fight with yer brother," My eyes widen and I choke on the jerky in my mouth, "Wasn't my fault. He said he didn't want y'staying in my tent while y'rested. He grabbed me and then I...remembered yer face, and yer words and it just happened," I glance down at my lap, unsure of what to say, "Maybe got a few licks in each before Officer Douche Bag and Rick broke it up."

"If you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about Colt right now," I murmur softly, before glancing up, "Is that offer of a ride still on the table?" He nods slowly and I smile, "You really are a good friend, Daryl. Don't know what would happen if it wasn't for you."

"I do," Daryl comments, causing me to cock an eyebrow, "Y'woulda most likely slaughter those stupid Mexicans, beat the crap outta yer brother and jack sum'one in the face with that shovel."

My head falls back, real laughter escaping me as his words washes over me. Polishing off the last of the jerky, I mutely thank him for the cigarette before lying back on the cot. I know I should probably get my shit together, but for right now, I'm taking a much needed break. A break from Colt. A break from pain. A break from barely-strangers. A break from reality.

Just for a moment.

* * *

"Where are you going?"

Zipping up my large duffle bag, I glance down at Isaac standing near the tailgate of the truck. Hopping down, I stiffly and mechanically pat Isaac on the shoulder, offering him a small smile of sympathy before nodding in Daryl's direction. Seeing the understanding, I wonder how Isaac became more compassionate and level-headed than Colt. Choking back my nervous tension, I wrap my arms around his waist, resting my forehead against his chest.

"Thanks for understanding, bro," I murmur.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he replies.

Shaking my head, I smile after stepping out of the embrace, "No. You were right where you needed to be. Next time we get a chance, I'll be sure to finish another...feather," His eyebrows crinkle in confusion, "In memory of Amy. She was your friend after all."

I flinch out of habit when Isaac presses a kiss to my forehead, "You're nicer than you give yourself credit for."

Snorting, I hoist my bag over my shoulder, "Just don't tell anyone. Next thing you know Officer Dickhead and I will be singing 'Joy to the World'. Oh, and you better take good care of her," I nod in the direction of my bike, "Or I'll have your ass."

Earning a hearty laugh, I am pleased I've managed to get him to forget his sorrow for a brief moment before I wander over to Mel. Kneeling down, I embrace the small girl tightly, dropping more than one kiss on the giggling child's face. Making her promise me to stick with her daddy and Uncle Isaac, I press one more kiss to her forehead before approaching Daryl's truck. Tossing my bag into the bed of his truck, I slip into the passenger seat, grinning thankfully when he offers me a cigarette.

"We're gonna need to grab more on the next run."

"Pretty sure, Glenn owes us after us going to safe his punk ass," I retort, earning a snort of amused agreement.

Lighting up the cigarette, I inhale as my gaze settles on the camp, for what is sure to be the last time.

* * *

**So? The witch is dead! No, Charlie doesn't think of her in any different light. She is still considered 'that woman' or 'her'. The emotional angst is mostly from shock. Hello, she wasn't in the military like her brother. She's never had to kill someone. Jamie was already one of them when she found him. She's never killed a living breathing person, and along with everything else that occurred, she's bound to crack at some point. Again, hope it doesn't seem too OCC. This chapter was particularly difficult to write because I had to get into Charlie's head, which...wasn't that difficult, and author had to take a much needed smoke break due to the emotional chaos of it all. Reviews = Cupcakes...Author likes Cupcakes! Cupcakes makes Author hyper. Hyper-Author writes more! See pictures?**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: Ding Dong, the witch is dead.**

**For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:**

**Freckles the Wanderer  
Paper Grenade  
Pein's Kid  
Ravenclaw Slytherin  
shyannene  
winterfellsfallenqueen  
kore12191  
Hannie88  
Lilly72  
Marizhka18  
DementorsKiss95  
lilhanna  
shmalana  
jalannas  
kelizabeth13  
kittykat195  
Nyx-Arae  
PandaVSZilla  
cbeeapple  
**

**Coming Next Chapter: Daryl and Charlie get some one-on-one time? What questions are asked? What do you think Daryl would ask? What do you think Charlie should ask? When the gang stop to give Jim his final respects, Charlie goes car raiding? What should she find? **

**THANKS AGAIN! You guys are awesome! Leave reviews and let me know what you think!**


	12. Part 1-12: Leisure

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are form ed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out t h ere, but I want to take my shot at it . The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up i n to different Parts, following the Seasons . Th is story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me kn ow what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping i t as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Twelve**  
_Leisure_

* * *

_(n) 1. free time 2. respite_

* * *

"A chupacabra? As in raiding small villages, feeding off of goats?" I ask, chuckling at the insistent nod, "Please tell me this is some on-running joke?"

"No joke. I came pretty damn close to catchin' the damn thing," Daryl responds, frowning at my respondent laughter, "It's not a joke."

Waving my hands defensively, I shake my head, "Okay. Okay. I believe you."

"What 'bout yerself? What's the strangest thing y've done?" he questions, following the van housing Rick and his family.

Thinking back, I tap my chin, "Colt and I introduced Isaac to...uh...pool raiding."

"The hell is pool raiding?" Daryl asks, snorting at the thought.

"Ma's house resided in a development made up of cookie-cutter houses," I explain, rolling my eyes, "Every house had the same layout, same outward look, same boring monotony. Colt and I used to hop fences all the time, usually to get from point A to point B faster than taking to the streets. One night, it was hotter than fuck and we were bored, so we would hop fences and swim in the pools of other houses," Daryl lets out a small chuckle, and I smirk, "I was still getting used to the idea of having new siblings and Isaac overheard Colt and I talking about a pool raid. We decided, if he wanted to know about it so bad, we'd explain through example," I sigh, shaking my head, "Out of all of the times Colt and I managed to successfully do it, we got nabbed by the cops because Isaac moved too close to the house, forcing the motion-sensitive light to come on."

"How is that strange?"

I snort, shrugging my shoulders, "Sorry I don't have a chupacabra story like you do. Alright, if you could do anything in your free time, no obligation to do something, what would you do?"

Daryl seems embarrassed as he replies, "I like t'read." I blink, slightly curious and surprised, "What? My Mama always said reading is a perfect way to escape reality. Grew up with her teachin' me t'read. Don't do it often, but sum'times I do."

"When no one is around to see you do it, you mean," I supply, seeing his jaw clench, "Hey, I don't think there's anything wrong with it. I love reading. My second favorite thing next to drawing."

"What's the greatest injury you've ever had?" Daryl asks.

I can't remember how we started this Q&A session, and to be honest, I'm surprised he's even wanting to. I'm thankful though. It's helping me keep my mind off of what happened a few miles back at camp.

"Can't be sure, really. I've broken more bones than I can count. Don't even get me started on stitches. I think...the worst for sure when my ankle was damn near shards of what was once a bone," I respond dispassionately, shrugging as I feel his gaze turn on me briefly, "Took a pretty nasty...fall down a flight of stairs and managed only an injured ankle and a minor concussion. It's why I'm not really good at running for long periods of time."

"Only managed?"

I snort, nodding at the disbelief in his voice, "Doctor at the hospital said I was probably lucky I didn't break my neck."

"Why are we friends?" The question seems rushed and I glance up in time to see reluctance and shock, as if he had never meant to say those words. Watching as he visibly swallows, a false bravado sliding across his face like a familiar mask, "Y'said we are friends, but why?"

"Like Hell if I know," I snort out, not the least bit embarrassed and I shrug at the look he shoots me, "What? I don't. It just...when I think of having any friends in this fucked up little group of ours, you are the first that pops in my head. Glenn's...I guess the kids a friend," I shrug, "I didn't even know we were friends until Colt pointed it out." Sensing the discomfort, I shake my head, throwing a small smirk in his direction, "Just...don't read into it. You're Daryl Dixon. I'm Charlie Livingston. You're a Southern, backwater redneck who gets a kick out of killing Bambi's mother. I'm bred-and-born Northern, City-slacking artist who gets a kick out of causing people to bleed everyday of my life. You have an attitude problem and I just have...people problems."

"Like y'don't have any attitude?"

I giggle slightly, "I don't know what you're talking about," I say, shaking my head dramatically, watching as he rolls his eyes, "I don't have an attitude problem. Everyone else lacks attitude...and _that's_ the problem."

Earning another chuckle, Daryl lets out a low curse when he notices the caravan coming to a stop. Groaning at the thought of having to deal with people, I tell Daryl that I am going to scope out the abandoned cars. Nodding to his words of 'be safe', I head in the opposite direction. The majority of the cars are unlocked, so it's easy to get into them. Digging around, I manage to come across various cigarette packs, batteries, and I even managed to find a half-empty bottle of whiskey. Twisting open the cap, I carefully run my shirt over the mouth of the bottle before taking a long, and much needed, swig.

"Charlie."

Swallowing the burning substance, I tense, growling a pointed, "Fuck off."

"Come on, Charlie. I don't want this to come between us."

Whirling around on Colt, I jab a finger in his shoulder, "You _promised_, Colt. You gave your fucking word! You couldn't end the life of a woman, who in my books is rather insignificant to our family. How can I trust you'll do what is right if and when the time comes?" I give him another shove, "I've never been a soldier! I have the blood of an innocent, stupid, bumbling woman on my hands and that's something I can _never_ forget!"

"I know," Colt mutters sorrowfully, "and I'm sorry. I just...I felt like I failed my friend."

"Yeah, well fuck you and your twisted morals!" I spit out, gripping the bottle tightly in my hand, "You were so busy worrying about failing a fellow soldier that you failed _me_. Me, Colton! Your own sister!"

Feeling his hand fall on my shoulder, I use every ounce of strength I have to shove him back, "No! You don't have the right to touch me! I did what needed to be done, what _she_ was practically begging for, and you _hit me_!" Shaking my head, I take a step away from him, "So, no. I can't deal with you right now. Just...please...leave me alone."

"For what it's worth, I _am_ sorry, Charlie," Colt murmurs gently, his eyes saddened before he turns and walks away.

No. That's not fair! Why does he get to make me feel like the bad guy? He can't do this! He can't..._apologize_. As if that makes everything okay. Shaking my head, I dig out one of the many cigarette packs I found and make my way back to Daryl's truck. Sliding into the seat, looking away from the group standing over Jim's body, the bite-infected mechanic leaning against a tree, I knock back another long swig from the bottle.

* * *

"Y'can't be serious?" Daryl asks, half amused as I glance up from the book in my hand.

Seeing his gaze trained on the bottle in my lap, I shrug and offer him a swig, "Hey. Just because the world's gone to shit doesn't mean I can't enjoy a night cap every now and then."

"It's the middle of the day," Daryl replies, even as he takes the bottle from me, taking two long pulls from it. "Y'sure are sum'thin y'know that?"

I snort, nodding my head in a lazy bob, "Hey. I'm still sober. I just...needed something, I guess."

"Seen yer brother come over here. Everythin' alright?"

Swallowing back the sorrow, my eyes closing as the familiar burn ticks at the edge of my eyes, I shake my head, "No, Daryl. I...I don't know how to deal with it. Taking out Walkers is one thing, but..."

"What happens if Isaac or Colt or even Mel get bit?" I tense at his question, "Y'think y'can do it?"

"I promised I would. I will probably be more of a mess than I am now, but yes, I'd do it," I reply, my voice dropping, tone darkening, "I can handle it because it's their call. I barely knew the woman's last name, hell, I don't even know her husband's name."

"Maybe...maybe this will help ya be able t'do it if the need ever comes?"

Daryl's words makes every thought in my head pause, my gaze slowly moving to meet his. Maybe Daryl's right. Maybe this...maybe this will make me stronger. I still don't like it. I still can feel the warmth of her blood coating my hands as I carried her to the grave site. I'll never be able to forget killing a person, but maybe next time I need to, I can do it without the mental breakdown. Thinking of my brothers being in her place, I shake my head. No. Mental breakdown will definitely happen, but it will be easier to handle.

"Thanks, Daryl," I mutter, giving him a half-smile, "Sorry I'm such a fucking mess. I promise, I'm usually not like this."

"S'fine," he replies, nodding his head before he starts the truck again. "So, how many tattoos y'got?"

Thankful for the change of subject, I snort, rubbing at my cheeks as I shut the book and set it on my lap, "Six. I don't get tattoos for just any occasion. What about you?"

"Two."

A small smile tugs at my lips as our Q&A session starts back up.

* * *

When we stop again, it is to siphon gas and stretch our legs. With night upon us, I suppose we are camping our vehicles for the night. Laying back on the roof of the RV, everyone else asleep, I stare up at the starry skies. The empty bottle of whiskey lying between Daryl and I. We don't talk for awhile. What else is there to say? I know that Daryl let me have the majority of the alcohol, having told everyone he'd keep an eye out on the group. Watching a ring of smoke leave my lips and drift into the open air, I muse over everything that has happened.

"You know, I tried to kill myself once," I murmur softly, feeling his gaze turn on me, but my eyes stay locked on the night sky, "Had a whole bottle of pills dumped into my palm. I was tired of being a target. Tired of existing. Tired of being alone. Tired of lying and feeling ashamed of who I was," I snort, shaking my head, "I was such an idiot back then. Thinking the opinions of others mattered, as if I'd ever see any of their faces after graduating."

"What stopped ya from doin' it?"

The softness of his tone causes me to smile, "Jamal Preston," My thoughts sober as I come to a realization, my body slowly sitting upright. Turning my sights on the hunter sitting to my left, I feel my mouth open, shock registering in my mind. Seeing the confusion, I swallow, "I've never told anyone about that. No one except Jamie knew about it." Daryl looks as if he is confused on how to respond and I shake my head, "I'm sorry. I just...I've never actually been this...comfortable with _anyone_ before."

"M'sorry?" he says, confused and at a loss for words.

I snort, shoving his shoulder lightly, "No. We're good, Dixon. I just wonder...how the hell I managed to befriend someone like you? I can be a bit of a fuck up at times."

"Yeah, cause I walk on the straight n'narrow?"

Giggling, I shake my head, "Oh, piss off. You know what I mean."

As the night grows darker and the cool breeze flows by us, I fall silent. Content. At peace. More so than I've been in a long time. It's...different.

* * *

**Like it? No? Do you think Charlie has a right in her reaction to Colt? Reviews = Cupcakes...Author likes Cupcakes! Cupcakes makes Author hyper. Hyper-Author writes more! See pictures?**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: Yes! I know, it was a twist, most likely not what you guys were expecting, but...as explained in this chapter...it happened that way for a reason. Thanks again!**

**Pein's Kid: Wow! First, lol...you're keeping track of the length of my Minions. mwhahaha...my Minions are the best. Thanks for reviewing after each chapter. I love such dedicated readers! Yes. Bless Isaac. The kid's one of a kind, for sure. He understands and sees Charlie in a different light than Colt does, so the relationship between Isaac and Charlie has a different feel to it.**

**winterfellsfallenangel: Yes, finally! lol. Me? I guess...maybe...in some way, Charlie's personality is a reflection of my own. Isn't that how most people write? Maybe I'm different, but hey, what can I say. The story is writing itself by this point. And what do you mean you're enjoying it more than expected? Woman! I'm going to beat you next time I see you!**

**simbasockz: Addicted? Well...I'm afraid we don't have a hot-line you can consult with for your addiction. BUT I am cool enough that I don't mind the addicts every now and then. lol...pardon my sense of humor, it's one of those days. Anyways, thank you so much for your review. I am touched (in a purely platonic fashion). Promise. It isn't how 'Colt' is going to react to 'Charlie' it's the other way around. Charlie is a bit of a spitfire, or loose cannon when fired up.**

**ilovepiealot : First off...Love the name. SPN fan? Or just a Pie fan? Maybe both? I know I am. Next, awwww...you made me giggle. Sort of. I am pleased with your words. I try to keep Charlie as realistic, integrating how an actually person (like myself) would react in a given situation. Thanks again!**

**Texas Bobcat: I love Bobcats...any kind of Cat...as long as their not domesticated. My step-father brought home five cats and they won't leave me alone. Anyway...thank you, and I hope this is soon enough.**

**For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:**

**Freckles the Wanderer  
Paper Grenade  
Pein's Kid  
Ravenclaw Slytherin  
shyannene  
winterfellsfallenqueen  
kore12191  
Hannie88  
Lilly72  
Marizhka18  
DementorsKiss95  
lilhanna  
shmalana  
jalannas  
kelizabeth13  
kittykat195  
Nyx-Arae  
PandaVSZilla  
cbeeapple  
Fall-Back-Down**

mysticcameo

**Coming Next Chapter: Should I give the group one more day on the road? Or should they get to the CDC? The entirety of the CDC moment will spread out a few chapters as I focus on Charlie's perspective, as usual. What do you think of Colt and Charlie's argument? Do you think she has the right to be angry? Do you think Daryl is learning what it means to be a friend? When do you think Daryl will make a mistake? We know he gets temperamental. It can't be all 'bed of roses and shitting rainbows with purple unicorns eating a leprechaun's pot of gold'.  
**

**THANKS AGAIN! You guys are awesome! Leave reviews and let me know what you think! Cupcakes are golden tickets!**


	13. Part 1-13: Militant

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are form ed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out t h ere, but I want to take my shot at it . The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up i n to different Parts, following the Seasons . Th is story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me kn ow what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping i t as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Thirteen**  
_Militant_

* * *

_(adj) 1. aggressive, combative_

* * *

"Of course I like Rock music," I state, dumbfounded and a bit befuddled by Daryl's surprise, "Lyrics have solid foundations. Vocals are amazing. Music is made by hand and not computer generated. Stage performances are often some of the best. All other music sucks ass," The absolution of my tone causes Daryl to chuckle, "Oh come on. Rap and Hip-Hip, or Popular music, all sing about sex, drugs, money, and bitches. Country sings about religion, sex, alcohol and shows how pathetic it is to be a redneck," The teasing tilt at the end of my words causes Daryl to glare, "Joking. You're alright...for a redneck. Never actually thought I'd befriend one. Most live up to the stereotype that it makes me sick just thinking about it."

"At least tell me y'don't listen to that stupid screamin' shit," Daryl grumbles.

Laughing at his choice of words, I shake my head, "Some of it, maybe. I can't listen to bands that do nothing but low, guttural growling. I like harmonized vocals and being able to understand lyrics the first time I listen to the song. Alright. Do you think Rick is in the right?" My serious question pulls his gaze from the road, dark blue eyes curious, "Bringing us to the CDC? Don't get me wrong, I think Rick is alright, kind of a bleeding heart, but really? The Center of Disease Control? That has 'Warning: Turn Around' written all over it."

"It seems better than heading to a fort o'all places," I nod in silent agreement with him, "Suppose we'll see when we get there."

I guess we will. I can't say I agree with this plan. In a world where the dead are infected and rise from the graves, the CDC seems like the last place I'd go. Then again, I've never had the makings of a good leader. Not exactly one that follows blindly either. Colt always told me my problem was I was an independent, free-thinker with a hot-temper. Sad, but true. Most of the time, I don't think when I react. Instinct guides me. Instinct Colt drilled into me all those years ago. Instinct that has never steered me wrong.

"Anyone ever tell ya, y'worry too much?"

Snorting, I cross my arms over my chest, glancing over at the hunter behind the wheel, "Actually, I've been told I don't worry enough. And I don't. Never have. Worrying over possibilities would only drive me crazy, the way my brain works. I figure, unless there is proof telling me different, I don't let myself worry about it. Worrying only consumes and distracts people from the now."

"Y'never think 'bout the 'could be's' in life?"

"Hell no," the words leave my lips quickly, unable to be kept back, "I live in the now. The past is dead and buried. The future is undetermined. All that is sure and true is the present."

I flinch at the look Daryl shoots in my direction. It isn't contempt or disbelief. In fact, I can't put a name on it. I've never actually seen that look before. It's almost as if he's...unsure. Daryl doesn't come off as someone unsure of himself. Maybe his awkward, irritated disposition toward other people, but never of himself. The nerves along my muscles tense, sparking in response to the odd look and my gaze wanders toward the scenery passing us by.

* * *

The stench of death and decay fills the air, hitting my sense the moment I slip out of the truck. Choking back the reflexive nausea, my gaze wanders over the long-dead corpses littering the ground. None of them Walkers, but...it felt wrong. My instincts were screaming for me to get back to the truck and high-tail it out of here.

"Y'led us to a graveyard!"

I don't think I could put a name to this better than Daryl did. This _is_ a graveyard. A grave of bodies piled up as if read their last rights before being drawn and quartered. Shuddering at the lifelessness in their open eyes, I listen and Rick and Shane argue over this being the wrong decision. My attention on Rick yelling at the small security camera, his fists pounding on the door, is drawn away at the sound of familiar scuffling feet. Instinctively, I remove my _pian dao_ from its sheath across my back, my head turning without taking my gaze away from the approaching Walkers. Letting out a shrill, low whistle, I am pleased when Isaac and Colt immediately take protective stances around Mel, shielding her tiny body from the infected creatures coming for us.

Mentally counting down, I react the moment the first one steps over the invisible line my brain etched out. Bringing the blade forward, I feel my mind fall silent and still as I resort to instincts. Turning on point, the blade pulling itself out of a Walker's skull, I bring the sword around in a complete swing, slicing through the head of another. Remembering every training exercise, even the sound of gunshots and Daryl's crossbow fall on deaf ears as I move, keeping out of the reach of any Walkers, my blade practically singing through the air. Blackened blood bathes the pavement at my feet and even a bright light flashing behind me doesn't cause me to stop, my sharpened curve of the blade slicing right up the middle of another Walker, groin to crown, and I watch numbly as the cleaved body halves crumble with a thud.

"Charlie! Come on!"

Hearing the commanding tone in my brother's voice, I begin moving back. My arm never ceases in its movement, blade never resting or sheathed until I feel an odd breeze of cool air blow against my sweat-covered back. Ramming the blade into the skull of another Walker, I tense and shudder when a hand grabs the back of my shirt, yanking me back just as the doors are shut. My instincts scream at me to get off the floor and I shudder as I move to my feet as metal protective doors slide down to keep out any Walkers. Every sense seems heightened in the silence of the room, my breathing labored, but my heart beating calm as if I hadn't just been in yet another bloodbath. Inhaling the gut-wrenching, clean stench of sterilization causes me my shoulders to tighten, my ears practically twitching when distant footsteps falls mute over the rushed voices of the others.

"Any of you infected?"

I refuse to stand down, or relax, as I stare at the shotgun aimed at the group. Even as Rick goes on to explain our situation, my gaze remains trained on the man practically cowering behind the corner of the atrium. I don't like it. Timid. Coward. Scared. Hopeless. Staring at the man, my grip tightens on the hilt of my sword, never once relaxing as the man drops his aim.

"You can put that away, Charlie."

Glancing over at a slightly-amused and slightly-fearful Isaac, I nod before looking down at the silver blade stained black with Walker blood and guts. Tugging at my shirt, I wipe off the blade before sheathing it across my back. Isaac nudges me as we follow after the group and seeing the questioning look, I give a pointed look at Dr. Jenner before shaking my head. Jenner's only demand for our sanctuary was blood samples. Watching him closely as he ties the tourniquet around the meat of my upper arm, I hear him chuckle as his gloved fingers run along the bend of my elbow, searching for my vein.

"No need to be nervous. Surely after a tattoo like that," he motions to the partial sleeve on my opposing upper arm, "you aren't afraid of needles."

"No," I respond curtly, ignoring the curious look from the man, "I don't like people touching me. Period."

Even as the needle pierces through my skin and vein, dark crimson sucked into the vacuum tube, I hear him chuckle, "Surely a lovely girl like you has someone."

"Nope," I ignore the feel of additional stares from the doorway as the tourniquet is untied, the last of my blood filling the tube before he pops it off, "I've never liked people touching me. Especially people I'm not familiar with."

As the needle leaves my skin and the opening is bandaged, the man simply chuckles again, "I'm sorry, but I find that hard to believe."

"And I find it hard to believe you let us in here out of the kindness of your heart, noble intentions and all that other pompous bullshit."

"Charlie!"

Glaring up at Colt, I stand up from the chair, shrugging, "Please don't tell me you're just now realizing I'm a bitch ninety-percent of the time."

Slipping out of the room, I offer the chuckling Daryl and Isaac a forced half-smile.

* * *

"So? Who get's the first shower?" Officer Dickhead questions, his smile fake and forceful, his words apparently trying to lighten the mood.

I blink in surprise when Glenn's voice says, "I think Charlie should get it." From my leaning position against the wall, my gaze settled on the tiled flooring, I tense as I feel the stares in my direction, "No offense, but..."

"I look like I just gutted a Walker," I muse, my mind numb of thought and my words empty.

"She did call our attention to the Walkers outside and gave us time t'get inside," Daryl's voice points out. "All we did was shoot at 'em. She was all up in it."

A flicker of amusement appears in the numb depths of my mind and I snort, "I get it, Daryl. I'm a reckless mess."

"Not reckless," Rick's voice argues, "A bit quick to leap in with little regard-"

"That's the definition of reckless, Officer Friendly," I cut in.

Rick chuckles in amusement, "I meant in little regard to anything other than protecting the group. I think Glenn and Daryl have a point. You look like you could use a warm shower."

The words 'warm shower' causes me to push away from the wall. A warm shower is most welcome.

If only to get away from the blatant stares burning into my skin.

* * *

**Some Walker-slashing action! The gang has finally made it to the CDC, and as I said, the chapters will be broken up by Charlie's perspective. We might actually see some interactions with characters Charlie hasn't spoken with yet. Besides getting drunk with Glenn, Daryl and Isaac, who do you think needs a bit of Charlie introduced in their life? Should Rick try to get to know Charlie better? What do you think Charlie should do if she comes across the Lori/Shane incident? Carol maybe? Andrea? Charlie isn't a big fan of the blonde, so it could be interesting. Reviews = Cupcakes...Author likes Cupcakes! Cupcakes makes Author hyper. Hyper-Author writes more! See pictures?**

**For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:**

**Freckles the Wanderer  
Paper Grenade  
Pein's Kid  
Ravenclaw Slytherin  
shyannene  
winterfellsfallenqueen  
kore12191  
Hannie88  
Lilly72  
Marizhka18  
DementorsKiss95  
lilhanna  
shmalana  
jalannas  
kelizabeth13  
kittykat195  
Nyx-Arae  
PandaVSZilla  
cbeeapple  
Fall-Back-Down  
ILovePieAlot  
SimbaSockz  
****mysticcameo**

**Coming Next Chapter: After a relaxing shower, Charlie feels more like herself. Who blushes when a towel-clad Charlie runs into Daryl? Which one stutters? Colt and Charlie chat before dinner? Is all forgiven? Or not? Will I ever stop asking you people questions? (Probably not...it's amusing to keep you guessing) Leave reviews! Happiness goes a long way (especially if Happiness happens to be the name of a large beating stick)  
**

**THANKS AGAIN! You guys are awesome! Leave reviews and let me know what you think! Cupcakes are golden tickets!**


	14. Part 1-14: Nonplussed

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are form ed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out t h ere, but I want to take my shot at it . The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up i n to different Parts, following the Seasons . Th is story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me kn ow what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping i t as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Fourteen**  
_Nonplussed_

* * *

_(adj) 1. confuse, perplex _

* * *

The water is too hot. Not that I dislike it. I prefer it this way. Jamie used to tease me, saying that I take showers hot enough to boil skin from bone. Sometimes, he even joked that I did it on purpose, that I meant for it to hurt.

But it doesn't hurt. Maybe it isn't for everyone, but feeling the red hot flush spread across my body, the water raining down over my shoulders and back, I feel the tension recede from my aching body. Everything hurt. My muscles melt, the dull pain mounting as if the muscles are being stretched in a permanent stance. My head pounds with the subtle thump of my pulse beating against my temple. My head feels heavy, much too heavy for my neck and shoulders to bear the weight. My heart feels hollow, empty, as if striped of everything that had ever mattered.

When the tar swirling down the drain begins to run clear, I move out of habit, soaping and washing every inch of me. Never scrubbing too hard, but just enough to clear away the black-crimson staining my body. As the darkness washes away, my pale skin slowly appearing before my eyes, I wonder what the other refugees thought while seeing me caked in Walker blood and guts. It is anything, but pleasant to gaze upon. Turning off the water, I dry off in the shower before wrapping the towel around my body.

Stepping out of the shower, I pause at the sink. A shaking hand reaches up, swiping across the steam-covered mirror. Instinctively, I wince at the sight of my reflection. I...don't look normal. Same old hazel-gold eyes, dulled and passive, missing what little life they once held. My damp brown hair seems to stick to the shape of my head and face, less unkempt than usual, but shining with a clean appearance. The black bags pulling at the bottom of my eyelids only seems to mock the paleness of my complexion. The left side of my face is an ugly collage of purple, green and yellow bruising and I'm surprised how small the cut along my temple is. Head wounds do tend to bleed excessively though.

Heaving a sigh, my fingers running through my damp hair, I push away from the sink and exit the bathroom. With my mind numb and heavy with the burdens of my memories, I never realize the lack of privacy as I turn away from closing the door. Feeling my body slam into another, I ready to catch myself, but find myself tensing when a pair of strong hands grab my shoulders, gently leaning me against the wall. Shuddering at the feel of calloused fingers brushing along my hypersensitive skin, I snap out of my thoughts, looking up at the other person.

My chest tightens, as if a vice grips it snugly. Blue eyes burning, smoldering with a gleam I've never come across before. I shiver again, unsure if its from the cool air filling the building. Or if it is from the thumbs gently brushing over the skin along my shoulders. My head spins, the hearty mixture of woodland scents, faint traces of sweat and something more...raw. More masculine. My eyes slide shut as my chest expands, despite the tightness gripping it firmly, taking in the scent and touch. Opening my eyes, I slowly witness awareness creep into those blue eyes and eventually, the smoldering gaze drains from them. The hands gripping my shoulders snatches away from me, as if my skin burns at the touch, and I heave a sturdy breath when Daryl practically stumbles backwards, his eyes wide and an odd redness coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

"Watch where yer goin'."

Hearing the hissed words leave his lips, I can feel the instinctive flinch show visibly as I shrink back. I've heard that tone before. Never from Daryl. No. That tone is reserved for certain members crowding my wretched memories. My fingers curl into tight fists, the instinct to protect myself at the forefront of my mind.

"It's called an accident, Daryl," I snap in return, fingers tightening just briefly, "Last time I checked, you had two eyes that work fine. You could have easily and equally avoided this."

"Maybe y'shouldn't be walkin' 'round this place practically naked," Daryl sneers out, eyes burning with anger, his face growing a darker shade of red with each passing minute.

Glancing down, I peer at my towel-clad body. His words cause an odd clenching to form in my stomach. Well...what was once my stomach. I miss my fuller figure. I had never been skin and bones, but hadn't been over weight either. No. Healthy. My legs are more lean as well, most likely from all the running. Even my own body feels different. Looks different. I don't blame him for his words. If _this_ version of me met the _old_ me from three years ago, the _old_ me would have punched me for losing her figure.

"Oh," I muse outwardly, chuckling humorlessly, "I...guess I see your point. Um..." I shift, feeling the once relaxed nerves growing with nervous tension, "I...guess I'm sorry."

"What?"

Looking up, I met his gaze, confusion apparent on his features, but the irritated anger clouds his vision, "I...I said sorry. I didn't think about grabbing clothes. Um...I'm going to go now."

Rushing back to the office I'm occupying, I slam the door behind me.

_WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?_ The thought screeches in my head, causing my hand to raise to my temple, massaging it tenderly. Since when have I ever been self-conscious? Grabbing at the barely-damp hair along the back of my head, I groan and curse my nervous tension. _I hate it!_ I curse. Daryl's probably going to think I'm being a stupid girl, shoving fingers down my throat and wasting what little food we can get. _Why do I have to be so damn stupid?_ I hate it. Why can't I control my body? Why can't I get a grip?

_I can't be that bad to look at, can I?_

* * *

Hearing a knock sound against the door, I let out an absentminded grunt, looking up from the page of the book. Rick's softened gaze greets me as he requests entrance. Tilting my head, wondering what I could have possibly done to warrant such a visit, I nod slowly, marking my spot in the book before closing it. Rick takes a seat at the desk, the chair turned around so he can look at me.

"Is something wrong?" I ask, sitting up from my lounging position.

Rick smiles, as if amused by my concern, and shakes his head, "No. I just haven't had the chance to talk to you since Atlanta. I wanted to make sure you are doing okay?"

Tilting my head, I feel my brow crinkle in confusion, "Why would you worry about me?"

"I'll admit it, I wasn't sure of you at first, but...you've proven you are a valuable member of this group," Rick replies, my eyes widening at his words, "You faced Atlanta, trying to save a man you barely tolerated, simply because leaving him behind was wrong and you are friends with his brother," I nod slowly, everyone knew that, "You did what very few of us have the stomach to do," Natasha. "You protect every member of this group as if they are family, even if you hardly speak to any of them." Outside. "I worry because you seem to be...collapsing under the pressure."

"You have no idea," the monotonous words leave my lips before I can stop them and a shaky, half-smile tugs at my lips as I lift my bare, clean hands for him to see, "I damn near forgot how pale my skin is. I hope my actions and how I appeared didn't frighten your boy." Rick's eyes glimmer with surprise by my words, "Carl's a good kid. Helps me keep Mel occupied when I need to do something around camp. I hope I didn't frighten him."

"Why would he be scared of you?"

"Because I am," I admit softly, my gaze dropping back to my lap, "I feel like...I'm not me anymore. It's harder to laugh. Like...every chance I get...it is ruined because I can't wait it out and let things take their course. No. I jump headfirst without second thought."

"If it helps, I think it is something I admire," I blink in surprise, my eyes turning up at Rick, who nods slowly at my questioning look, "I worry over every person in this group that I have to think every possibility over before making a decision."

"That's why you're the leader of this rag-tag group," I point out, seeing his own self-doubt flicker with shock, "My recklessness will most likely get me killed, or make me do something stupid. A group like this, barely held together by the seams, doesn't need someone like me leading them. Hell...I wouldn't have a clue what to do," I nod at the slight embarrassment on his face, "You...you remain calm in a moment of stress. You are level-headed and command with ease. I don't even think Colt could do a better job, and he _was_ military."

Rick smiles warmly and I feel oddly accomplished when the doubt flickers out of his eyes, "You are very kind, Charlie. If you ever need to talk and don't want it to be with Daryl or those brothers of yours...you are more than welcome to come to me."

Tilting my head, I nod slowly, "I do have something on my mind...something my brothers would deny and I'm not sure how to ask. Hell...I don't even know if its the right thing to ask." Rick remains silent, eyes encouraging and I swallow, shifting in my seat. "Is there...anything? Uh..." I trail off, looking down, hating the nervousness shaking my body, "Is there anything...about me that...that someone might find...likable?"

"Likable?"

Nodding slowly, I lick my quivering lips, "Likable as in something that is...uh...attractive?" I cringe at the sight of his eyes widening, the shock apparent on his features, "You don't have to answer, but...I just want an unbiased opinion on the matter. My brothers would tell me what they think I want to hear. And I...I honestly have never asked someone this before."

A softness, a look I have yet to see directed at anyone other than his own family, tugs along Rick's features, "Charlie," Slowly and gently, his hands come to rest on my shoulders, completely ignoring the tension in my body as he keeps his tone low, "You are unconventional and an individual in every way the word encompasses. I won't lie and say most people would look at you and be able to see pass the piercings and tattoos, and sadly, I am one of those people," I shift, but his grip tightens only briefly around my shoulders, "But the fact is, is that I _have_ had a chance to see beyond your image and I can honestly say, _yes_. You carry a modern-feel of classic attraction. Like Aubrey Hepburn."_  
_

At his words, I feel my body, for the first time, in a long time, relax in the grasp of another and a warm smile, a real smile, stretches across my lips, "Thank you, Rick. You're...not so bad yourself."

"Alright. Dinner is in thirty minutes. We're all eating together so you better not skip out like I've been told you do."

Giving him a mocking salute, I watch as he exits the room as silently as he arrived. Hm? Who would of thought? Charlie Livingston making friends with cops?

* * *

"Rick said y'promised to attend dinner."

Snapping the book closed, I stand up from the love seat and shove by Daryl. As a hand falls on my shoulder, an action I'm becoming sick of pretty fast, I whirl around, arm cocked back and hand clenched into a fist. Seeing him immediately remove his hand and take a step back, I recognize the annoyance flashing in his gaze.

"What?" I demand curtly.

He heaves a heavy sigh before nodding slowly, "M'sorry. Y'caught me off guard, is all. I...I ain't ever..."

Realizing where the conversation is heading and seeing him trying to force out the words, I raise a hand, fingers pressing over his parted lips, "Just...can we chalk this up to you being an ass and me being an idiot for letting it bother me?"

"Sure," he murmurs, his voice sending vibrations through my fingertips, before he reaches up, his fingers curling around my own, pulling them from his face, "Let's get down there before Officer Friendly gets pissy."

My nod of silent response freezes when his hand brings my fingertips back to his lips. Chaste. Quick. Completely meaningless. My hand drops as he releases it before he turns and saunters off. It...was almost like he didn't even think about doing it. As if it was just natural. But that's not right. Daryl has never shown affection toward anyone, friendship toward me, but...surely no?

Yet, watching his retreating figure, my fingertips tingling from touching the chapped lips, I wonder if it was as meaningless as most would view it as.

* * *

**Rick/Charlie interaction with a dash of angry/affectionate Daryl? Do you think his reaction is canon, or did I not let his anger stew long enough? I figured he reacted more out of shock at pressing a towel-clad Charlie against a wall instinctively. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Slightly angsty but remember, Charlie is affected by her nerves in a physical and psychological manner. So...her thoughts ramble, questioning situations and why things happen the way they do with her. Reviews = Cupcakes...Author likes Cupcakes! Cupcakes makes Author hyper. Hyper-Author writes more! See pictures?**

**For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:**

**Freckles the Wanderer  
Paper Grenade  
Pein's Kid  
Ravenclaw Slytherin  
shyannene  
winterfellsfallenqueen  
kore12191  
Hannie88  
Lilly72  
Marizhka18  
DementorsKiss95  
lilhanna  
shmalana  
jalannas  
kelizabeth13  
kittykat195  
Nyx-Arae  
PandaVSZilla  
cbeeapple  
Fall-Back-Down  
ILovePieAlot  
SimbaSockz  
****mysticcameo**

**Coming Next Chapter: Dinner with the gang! Charlie and Daryl plan on getting Glenn and Isaac hammered! What happens? (No demands for sex...I'm making this realistic) A game of 'I've never' drains a bottle pretty quick when it comes to the four-some. What questions are asked? Not writing until...about eight tonight, update most likely done by nine, so those who get a chance, review, give questions you want answered or questions you might find amusing!  
**

**THANKS AGAIN! You guys are awesome! Leave reviews and let me know what you think! Cupcakes are golden tickets!**


	15. Part 1-15: Outlandish

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are form ed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out t h ere, but I want to take my shot at it . The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up i n to different Parts, following the Seasons . Th is story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me kn ow what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping i t as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Fifteen**  
_Outlandish_

* * *

_(adj) 1. bizarre, strange _

* * *

I tried to muffle my laughter. I really did. I can see I'm not doing a very good job. Then again, I don't think anyone standing next to Daryl, listening to the ideas he's muttering into their ear, could do better than me. Seriously. I know he has a habit of targeting the Asian kid, but Isaac too? Glancing over at him, I catch the smallest smirk tugging at his lips as we lean against the counter, eating while standing. I wonder if Daryl knows how more...approachable he appears when he isn't scowling at every person that walks within two feet of him. When Daryl declares he's aiming to get Glenn drunk, I bite down on the knuckle of my index finger, the laughter choking as the amusement bubbles even more.

"Alright," Rick sighs after looking away from the retreating parents hoisting their children to bed, his gaze landing on Daryl, and me of course, "You two have been laughing up a storm all night. Mind sharing?"

"The world's gone to shit and the Doc has kindly offered us free-reign on his stash of booze," Daryl points out, aiming the mouth of his bottle at Rick for emphasis, "and we're just gonna...do nuthin'?"

"Daryl and I think it might be...better if we play a game," I add, shrugging off the disbelieving stares, "Like 'I've Never'. Take the time to enjoy and relax for once."

"Everyone other than Glenn and Isaac can opt out though," Daryl adds, his gaze settling on the two victims, the widening of their eyes causing a large grin of -sadistic- glee to spread across my face.

Officer Dickhead mumbles about not wanting to waste his time. Jacqui decides to watch while Andrea agrees to join in the game. T-Dog shrugs, saying he'll play until he feels like turning in. Rick also agrees, surprising most of the group, and I share a look of absolute -sadistic- glee with Daryl before making my way to the stash of booze the creepy doctor has. Hey. The man has booze. I'm okay with him right this moment. Maybe not so much in the morning.

"Alright. Let's start off with an easy one," I quip out as I hand everyone their own bottle, shrugging at the looks of disbelief, "Hey. If we're going to get completely smashed, I'm not drinking after any of you." Chuckles rounding the room causes me to roll my eyes, "First: I've never been married."

Rick shoots my a playful glare before taking a swig from his bottle, "I've never been arrested."

I chuckle when I realize I'm not the only one that snorted at the statement, Daryl, Isaac, T-Dog and I taking a drink before T-Dog says, "I've never gone streaking."

Laughter explodes when Isaac and Andrea take swigs from their drinks, Andrea the next to say next statement. Time slips by us as we talk about the things we've never done and the things we have done. T-Dog talks about his father's dying with, when he was just in his early teens, pleading for him to stay off the streets and make something of himself. Andrea tearfully confesses her admiration for Amy's determination to always help people. Glenn, getting more and more drunk with each 'never', tells everyone about never having known what he wanted to do with his life, feeling as though he never had a true purpose. With a mind like his, I'm surprised. The kid's smart as hell. Isaac confesses to never having fit in with his siblings, always being the odd-man out. Daryl admits he's always wondered what life would have been like if his brother had never joined the military.

"I've never had a threesome," I state firmly, my words slurring only slightly as the amount of alcohol pours into my system becomes greater with each passing round.

Isaac's face burns hotly as he raises his bottle, only to choke on his drink when a slightly intoxicated Daryl asks, "Y'want one?"

Laughter and choked gasps sound throughout the room, my hands at my stomach as the laughter squeezes my gut, Glenn slapping the choking Isaac on the back, "Dude! That's my sister."

"She ain't my sister," Daryl shrugs and the amusement filling me turns to mortification, my cheeks burning hot as I wonder how much Daryl's had to drink.

"Alright. I think that calls the game tonight," Rick announces, staggering to his feet, and I look away from the knowing look he gives me. "Let's turn in for the night."

Grumbling, I move to my feet, hoisting Isaac's arm over my shoulder, witnessing T-Dog doing the same to Glenn as I follow the group to the office corridor. Rick mentions going to speak with Jenner, stumbling his way down to the observation room. Shaking my head at his retreating form, I guide my intoxicated step-brother to his room. Dropping him on the sofa, I giggle as I drop a quick kiss to the top of his head, the warmth and numb sensation along my nerves a welcomed change.

"Night, bro-ski."

"N'ght, Letty."

Shaking my head, I back out of the room, my laughter ceasing as I slam headfirst into another body. Déjà vu swarms around me as I find my back pressed against a wall, my body trembling as calloused fingers gently stroke the skin along my upper arms. The taste of whiskey-flavored air brushes along my lips, my tongue running along them as my eyes slide open, my breath catching in my throat as glazed blue eyes burn uncharacteristically in my sights. I've never seen an expression so raw and open on his face before.

Every thought in my head freezes as warm, whiskey-flavored lips press against my own. Gasping at the foreign touch, my entire body quivering as his tongue slips through my parted lips. One hand delves into the hair at the back of my head, gripping it tightly, his other arm wrapping around my waist, palm flat against my back, every available space between us gone as he jerks my body forward. The numbness from the liquor slowly fades, the tension climbing in my body, mixing with the unknown flood of warmth in my body. A strange noise escape me, rumbling from the back of my throat as his teeth nips the tender flesh of my bottom lip, tugging on it in a playfully, dominating manner. The sound only seems to encourage more, the hand against my back sliding away, fingers curling around the flesh of my hip as my back is forcefully pressed against the wall.

"D-Daryl," I stutter out, my voice raspy, heavier with emotion as I try to pull away from the sensations.

Calloused fingers stroke the sensitive flesh along my hip, his lips, now no longer occupied by my own, leaves a trail of kisses along the side of my neck. Hissing as his teeth nip at the tender flesh, my lips throbbing from the previous abuse, I slowly begin to realize what is going on. Struggling with the emotions mounting higher, the insane amount of warmth filling my chest, I press my palm against his shoulder, shoving him hard enough to break his grasp, sending him stumbling back a few steps. My trembling legs buckle, body sliding down the wall as my hands grip onto my hair, pulling at it painfully as I try to ignore the mental pain raking through along every nerve of my body.

"S-shit," Daryl slurs out and I flinch in pain as his hand carefully wraps around one of mine, pulling it away from my head, "C'mon, Sugar. Look at me." Cursing the pain-induced trembles, I slowly bring my gaze to his, a gleam of sobriety apparent behind his glazed-over stare, "Ain't gonna hurt ya. C'mon. Let me help y'up."

Biting back the reflexive tears of pain, I nod slowly, taking the help offered. _He's not going to hurt me. He's not going to hurt me._ The mantra repeats over and over again as I shake with each step I take toward my room. _People have promised you that before._ It's true. People, my own flesh and blood, have promised to never hurt me. What makes Daryl any more different than them? _He's Daryl Dixon_. Daryl wouldn't hurt me on purpose, would he? Closing my eyes, I feel an odd warmth surround me.

"Woah, Sugar. Can't pass ou-"

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Angry blue eyes turn on me, my words obviously not to his liking, "Yer sorry? _Yer_ sorry? Tell me, in what fuckin' right state o'mind do y'think yer the one that needs to say sorry? I...I attacked ya."_  
_

"I'm not hurt," I respond, my tone calm as I remember having a similar conversation with Jamie after a night of much needed comfort.

"Try tellin' that to the memories from last night, cause y'sure as hell didn't look like y'were enjoyin' it!"

The yelling and anger isn't helping my nerves from trembling and I sigh, dropping my gaze, "I...I can't explain if you won't stop yelling. I...I need you to be calm, Daryl."

"What's there to explain, Charlie?" I tense, never having once heard my name leave his lips, my eyes snapping up to his own, "I...I had y'pressed against a fuckin' _wall_."

Curling my fingers, I glare at the self pity on his face, "Will you shut the fuck up so I can explain? I didn't _not_ like it, Daryl," My words causes his pacing to freeze, his shoulders tight as the square off, as if waiting for the bombshell to drop, "I didn't. I...just...can't explain how fucked in the head I am. It...It takes awhile for me to grow accustom to someone's touch," My gaze drops as he whirls around to face me, "Not sure when it happened, I think my brain triggers the response as a defensive measure. I can handle Mel, and Colt, and Isaac. I can handle the smallest of gestures from acquaintances, but...my nerves always react to something unexpected as if I'm being threatened and it _hurts_."

"Why ain't y'ever tell me this?" Daryl's voice, now calm and dropping in tone, questions as I feel the couch dip slightly as he sits next to me.

"It's a hindrance. It's a weakness. Sometimes, if I focus, I can fight through the pain, like in Atlanta with the Vatos," I cast a quick glance to see realization pierce his gaze, "and when I restrained you on the roof. It hurts, but I can fight through it. It just...has nasty after-effects in the long run."

"Ya pass out," he supplies, his fingers twitching and I muse over how he seems to want to comfort me.

Inhaling deeply, choking back the raw tension still stinging along my body, I carefully reach out and drop my hand on top of his, trying to ignore the twitches, "It takes time for me to get used to a certain person's touch. That kiss, last night, had been my first," I offer his guilty expression a soft smile, "and I liked it...so much so that I fought off the pain as long as possible." Dropping my gaze, I sigh, "I can understand if it...bothers you."

"Nah," he sighs out, his head shaking dismissively, "Just means we take it slow, right?" Glancing at him from the corner of my eye, I see his unoccupied hand rub the back of his head, "Ain't ever been in a relationship before. Kinda new to this myself. That is, if y'want this sorry son a'bitch."

A small, genuine smile tugs at my lips and I lean over, pressing a quick, chaste kiss on his cheek, "You think I wouldn't have handed you your ass if I had a problem with it."

The small smirk on his lips fades into a real smile and I lean my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes briefly, "Do you think we can...keep this quiet? I'm not ashamed or anything, but...people in this group tend to be nosy."

His snort of amusement seems to echo my sentiment, "Wasn't plannin' on tellin 'em shit, Sugar. Now, let's go get some breakfast."

* * *

Following Daryl into the kitchen, T-Dog scraping what had once been powdered eggs and strips of bacon onto a plate for each of us, I offer the black man a small nod of thanks. Plopping down next to the moaning Isaac, I giggle inwardly as Daryl comes around to Glenn, slapping the Asian on the back. The resulting moan only causes my giggle to grow outward. Maybe...maybe for once things will start looking up.

* * *

**Ho-boy! What do you guys think? Yes? No? Do you think everything happened too fast? How do you see the Daryl/Charlie relationship unfolding? Can Daryl really comprehend her anxiety issues? Who knows!Reviews = Cupcakes...Author likes Cupcakes! Cupcakes makes Author hyper. Hyper-Author writes more! See pictures?**

**Pein's Kid: Master? hahaha...I cracked up the first time I read that. Minions are so...minion-y. Thanks for reviewing after each chapter. I'm glad you get a kick out of the growing minion count. I think we're up to nearly twenty five? Maybe? Dunno for sure. Thanks again for the cupcakes!**

**winterfellsfallenangel: Me? Write too fast? Sorry. Like I said, luv, this story writes itself. Honestly.**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: lol...I used your reference. Figured you earned it with your lovely reviews after every chapter. It made me genuinely laugh when I first read it, because sadly, that is something my friends and I have a tendency to respond with. (Sarcasm is my native language, English second. Winter knows this well enough) Hope you enjoyed the Charlie/Daryl moment!**

**ILovePieAlot: I only update so quickly because the story just...demands to be written. Probably going to end up being the longest one I've done. Thanks again!**

**For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:**

**Freckles the Wanderer  
Paper Grenade  
Pein's Kid  
Ravenclaw Slytherin  
shyannene  
winterfellsfallenqueen  
kore12191  
Hannie88  
Lilly72  
Marizhka18  
DementorsKiss95  
lilhanna  
shmalana  
jalannas  
kelizabeth13  
kittykat195  
Nyx-Arae  
PandaVSZilla  
cbeeapple  
Fall-Back-Down  
ILovePieAlot  
SimbaSockz  
****mysticcameo  
crazychicalol  
**

**Coming Next Chapter: Colt and Charlie finally make amends? Daryl struggles on how to show affection and Charlie finds it endearing? Mel kisses Carl on the cheek, making the adults laugh? Charlie keeps getting bad vibes from Jenner? Now Shane too?  
**

**THANKS AGAIN! You guys are awesome! Leave reviews and let me know what you think! Cupcakes are golden tickets!**


	16. Part 1-16: Penance

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are form ed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out t h ere, but I want to take my shot at it . The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up i n to different Parts, following the Seasons . Th is story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me kn ow what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping i t as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Sixteen**  
_Penance_

* * *

_(n) 1. reparation for wrong 2. atonement _

* * *

"Alright, I-Suck," I quip softly, my fingers running a small amount of ointment over the fresh letters etched within the feather, "Done."

Removing the latex gloves, I rub my cold hands together, the air-conditioned air a stark contrast to the Georgian heat outside. Cleaning up and gathering all of my tools, I muse over nearly being out of ink cartridges as Isaac slips his shirt back on. Snapping the briefcase closed, I offer my step-brother a small smile before a knock sounds on the door. Seeing Colt slip into the room, Isaac moves to his feet and wordlessly pats my shoulder before exiting the room. The tension in the air is thick as I lean back into the couch, taking in the awkward stance and shifting of my brother's body.

"You came for a reason?" I ask, tone curt and short, "If you're just going to stand there like a fucking idiot, you might as well leave, because I don't have the patience for it."

He tenses and I can see the familial need to step up to a sibling's challenge flash through his eyes. Cocking an eyebrow, daring him to tread the thin ice between us, I watch as he sighs. The tension slowly fades from his shoulders, but the awkwardness is still apparent as he takes a seat at the desk. The silence remains and my annoyance grows.

"I wanted to apologize."

Snorting, I shake my head, "Good. You apologized. Now leave."

"Charlie," the weary tone causes my irritation to fade as his gaze drops to his shaking hands, "I need to fix this. I need you to forgive me. I...I can't begin to explain. I promised him that I would always keep an eye on his wife, keep her safe. The moment she showed me the bite mark, I knew I failed."

Seeing the utter sorrow etched across his features, I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back for more comfort, "Yet, you were willing to read the woman her proverbial last rights?"

Colt lets out a world-weary sigh, shoulders dropping, "I cannot begin to express how sorry I am. That my...inaction caused you to pull the trigger. I...I've never wanted to subject you to such violence. Not after what you've already been through," I glance away as his gaze lifts to my face, "And there is nothing, nothing I can say that excuses me putting my hands on you. Charlie, you have to believe I'd never hurt you."

Looking over at the heavy-burdened sorrow in my brother's entire demeanor, I nod slowly, watching shock flicker through his gaze, "We're good, bro. Just...if you ever put your hands on me like that again, you better hope to whatever God you believe in that the blow knocks me under," The snort and watery chuckle in response causes me to stand upright, "Look, Colt. I get that times are rough, and we should always be on our game, but you need to lighten up. If you're going to blow up at every little thing that happens, this family is fucked," Seeing the quirked eyebrow, I shrug a shoulder, "Hey. It's expected of me to fly off the handle. I've established that reputation with these people. Next to Rick and Dale, you're the only other one with a level head."

Colt stands to his feet, his arms open to embrace me, but I place a firm palm against his chest, keeping him from advancing, "I'm sorry, Colt. My nerves still need to...relax around you. I love you, you know that, but that doesn't change how fucked in the head I am."

Colt nods in understanding, despite the hurt in his gaze, and he offers me a small smile before nodding toward the door. Realizing he's asking me to walk with him, I shrug and follow after my brother. Walking down the hall, my gaze trained on the back of his head, a small smile tugs at my lips. Stubborn ass.

* * *

"What's going on?"

My question pulls Daryl's attention away from the group following Jenner down to Level 5, "Dunno. Dale and Andrea were askin' questions and the Doc just said fer us to follow him." My fingers twitch, the movement catching his gaze, "Y'alright? Y'actin' all nervous."

"Nerves. Instincts mostly. This place, and Jenner, doesn't feel right," I respond, keeping my voice low as to not call attention to our conversation.

My focus on the group ahead of us breaks, my nerves twitching when a familiar roughened hand runs up the length of my forearm, fingers curling around the crook of my elbow, "Nothin's gonna happen to ya," Daryl states, determined and grounded, his voice as soft as my own, "They just wanna know what's goin' on."

"I think we're better off not knowing," I retort, earning a small snort, before the light grasp on my arm drops away, "Thanks."

He seems curious as to why I'm thanking him. It isn't often that a person's words help calm down the hypertension along my nerves. The subtle shift in my mind in regards to his touch causes me to muse over my thoughts. Seeing the awkward shift in his stance, his gaze turning forward, I smile softly. I am definitely not the only one in this...relationship that has a nervous issue.

Entering the round room of the lab, I lean against one of the many desks, Daryl standing off to my left as usual. Seeing Jenner begin to explain how the virus takes hold of a human being, I pat my hands along the pockets of my cargo pants before locating the abused pack of cigarettes. Lifting one out, I place it between my lips, cocking an eyebrow as Jenner pauses in his speech. He nods slowly, returning to his speech, and I snort, handing the last two cigarettes to Daryl, my other hand fishing out my lighter. Inhaling a long drag from the cigarette, I watch the monitor as Jenner explains a person's death as seen through the brain of an infected victim.

"It restarts the brain?" Lori asks, half in awe, half in disgust.

"The brain stem. It gets them up and moving, but..."

Rick steps forward, eyes trained on the monitor, "they're not alive."

Great. So, Jenner only confirmed what we've already figured out. Once turned, there's nothing left. Nothing for that makes them human anyway. The revelation seems to shock the majority of the group, even Daryl muttering about getting 'shit-faced drunk again'. Dale breaks the moment of awestruck horror, asking Jenner about the large, digital clock counting down from an hour. Jenner mutters something about the generators running out of fuel, but even I can see Rick doesn't believe it anymore than I do.

"VI. What happens when the power runs out?" Rick asks the computer.

_'When the power runs out, a facility-wide decontamination will occur.'_

I don't like it. Neither does Rick by the looks of things. Meeting Daryl's gaze, I wish I didn't when a flicker of concern dashes through his eyes. Daryl's a hunter. A man of instinct. If he feels the smallest amount of concern, it can only mean one thing.

We're fucked.

* * *

"Mel," I murmur as I kneel in front of the scared child, "I want you to stay with Miss Lori and Carl. Mr. Daryl and I are going to gather whatever supplies we can."

As Rick, Shane, T-Dog and Glenn made for the basement generators, Colt immediately took charge and instructed everyone to gather their things in case of a sudden need for evacuation. Knowing I can't run off and gather supplies for the road with Mel left unattended, I motion for her to join the small group of children standing with Lori and Carol.

Zipping up the last of my things, I instinctively strap my _pian dao_ to my back when a hand rests on my shoulder. Glancing up, my nerves tensing as always, I chuckle humorlessly when Daryl shakes a half-empty bottle in my face. Wordlessly, I take a long gulp from the bottle, the shaking along my muscles fading. Falling onto the couch, I let out a long sigh, subliminally aware of the couch dipping under another weight to my left.

"Y'alright? Yer quiet again."

Nodding my head slowly, I shrug a shoulder, "I'm fine. I think we need to get the hell out of here as soon as possible, rather than wait around."

"Why? It ain't so bad here. Rick and the others are bound to figure sum'thin out," Daryl comments.

"Maybe they will," I sigh, fingers rubbing at my temples, "Maybe they won't, Daryl. All I know is Jenner has a curious look in his eye. A look that doesn't bode well for me."

I've seen that look before. The look Jenner continues to display, even if his lips are stretched into a smile. Loss. Uncertain. Fear. Sorrow. Self-deprecation. All of those in one single look. I've seen it before. It's a look of someone that no longer has a will to go on. A look of hopelessness and haplessness. A look I remember reflected back at me from the bathroom mirror all those years ago. Maybe someone can convince him it isn't worth it?

"What the hell?"

Glancing up at Daryl's curse, I swallow the lump in my throat. The air has shut off and the lights are flickering in a manner that doesn't set right with me. Looking over at Daryl, I can see it doesn't set right with him either.

* * *

**Slightly shorter than my other chapters, and I am sorry, but I've unfortunately been severely busy. My vacation is coming to an end and I'm afraid I will be traveling most of the day tomorrow. So...no updates until Sunday evening and I will also respond to reviewers on the next update, as I am unfortunately on the verge of heading out for the night. Reviews = Cupcakes...Author likes Cupcakes! Cupcakes makes Author hyper. Hyper-Author writes more! See pictures?**

**For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:**

**Freckles the Wanderer  
Paper Grenade  
Pein's Kid  
Ravenclaw Slytherin  
shyannene  
winterfellsfallenqueen  
kore12191  
Hannie88  
Lilly72  
Marizhka18  
DementorsKiss95  
lilhanna  
shmalana  
jalannas  
kelizabeth13  
kittykat195  
Nyx-Arae  
PandaVSZilla  
cbeeapple  
Fall-Back-Down  
ILovePieAlot  
SimbaSockz  
****mysticcameo  
crazychicalol  
**

**Coming Next Chapter: Time is running out! Who opts to stay and die? Who convinces Jenner to let them go: Rick or Charlie? Or maybe Rick _and_ Charlie?  
**

**THANKS AGAIN! You guys are awesome! Leave reviews and let me know what you think! Cupcakes are golden tickets!**


	17. Part 1-17: Quandary

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are form ed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out t h ere, but I want to take my shot at it . The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up i n to different Parts, following the Seasons . Th is story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me kn ow what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping i t as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Seventeen**  
_Quandary_

* * *

_(n) 1. a situation or circumstance that presents problems difficult to solve; predicament; dilemma_

* * *

He's going to blow us up! Inwardly hissing, my feet forcing my body to pace back and forth as Officer Dickhead and Daryl hack at the metal door, each armed with an ax. I swallow back the sickening bile as I realize I am about to be forced to break the one and only promise I've ever made to someone outside of my family. The Golden Rule of the Livingston Family: Never make a promise you have no intention of keeping. I promised him. I swore that I would never given in, not when there is the smallest reward for striving through the chaos of life. Jenner continues to speak, trying to reason with the panicking group, the what he is doing is the only way for us to have peace. I can see a few understand, but most are afraid. Afraid for their lives. Afraid for their families. Afraid to face death, even when it looks at us everyday outside of this building.

Letting out a muttered curse, my restraint breaking as Jenner tries to reason himself with Rick. Moving in a manner as to not draw attention to myself, the doctor sitting in the office chair, an almost-empty bottle of alcohol in his hands. I say nothing as I remove the Beretta from my pocket, pressing the barrel to the back of his skull. People hiss my name in surprise, and it isn't a wonder with how many times Daryl already tried to bury his ax in the doctor's head. Seeing Rick immediately take a step forward, my finger clicks off the safety and the suicidal doctor tenses at the sound.

"Charlie-"

"Any of you come one step forward, I'll pull the trigger regardless," I state coldly, cutting off Rick from trying to speak, "The Doctor wants to end his life, so be it, but I've giving you about one minute of this precious time to either unlock the fucking door and let us out, or I will do it for you."

"You are holding a gun to the head of a suicidal man!" Officer Dickhead points out needlessly.

"Wow. You are really on the uptake, aren't you?" I sneer, fingers of my unoccupied hand twitching with irritation, "I refuse to sit here and let some ass-fuck dictate how my life ends." Turning Jenner around in his swivel chair, my free hand clenches around his throat, "You see, Jenner. I was weak once. I thought it was pointless to continue," The deafening silence filling the air seems to grow tense with shock, "The I managed to find someone, a special person, and that one person made me _promise_ to always struggle and fight against what life throws at me, because there is always a reward for your suffering."

"What reward could you possibly find in the world out there?" Jenner chokes out, eyes saddened, but curious.

"I wake up every day and see the faces of my loved one's, even those that are no longer with me," I respond instantly, "I wake up and remember that I have a reason to fight and a reason to continue, no matter what stands in front of me, friend nor foe will stop me from finding what little reward I can." A delicate tremor runs up my spine and I release the man's throat, "I don't care if you want to end your existence, but I will be damned if I let anyone make that decision for me. If I'm going to die, I'll die fighting, because those that have nothing to fight for, have no reason to live." Seeing his eyes widen with recognition, I step back, my aim never dropping from the center of his forehead, "Now, open the fucking door."

Unfortunately, the moment I drop my guard, I find my gun free from my hand and a thick arm around my neck, pulling me back from the doctor. Heat floods my face, the tension tighter than ever and my pulse pounds within my ears, barely canceling out Daryl's shout of 'Hey!'. Inhaling deeply, taking in as much air as possible, I pull my torso forward, tugging the person behind me forward as well. Feeling the added weight to my back, I snap my head back, groaning inwardly as pain blossoms in my skull, but the satisfying crunch and muffled curse causes me to smirk. Feeling the arm loosen the slightest bit, I step forward again, putting space between the person's chest, and turn on point, bringing my elbow back feeling it connect with the side of their face.

"That's enough! Shane! Charlie!" Glaring at Officer Dickhead, smirking as he rubs his jaw, blood coating the top of his lip, I snort as he moves to his feet, my gaze turning on Rick, "Come on!"

Realizing in the midst of the scuffle, Jenner obviously gave in and unlocked the doors. Gathering my bags, I hoist them over my shoulder before making a break for it. Ignoring my dislike for running, I manage to weave around others in an attempt to catch up to Daryl and my family. Glancing over at the blue-eyed Hunter, I earn a small smirk as we break into the lobby of the building. The unbreakable windows becomes foreboding, until Carol hands Rick a grenade she had found in his pocket. Who the hell carries a grenade?

As the window shatters, the entire group makes a run for the caravan of vehicles when I notice someone is missing.

"Colton!" I yell out, the use of his full name pulling his attention to me immediately, "Where the fuck is Isaac?"

Seeing Colt's eyes widen in realization, I turn back toward the building, but barely manage to take a step forward when Daryl's arms grab me, throwing me inside his beat up truck. Glaring up at the blue eyes, the tension flooding my body at being pinned to the seat, I seethe when I realize struggling against him is useless. I refuse though. I continue to buck and kick, the burning prickles behind my eyes threatening to break free as I realize the time is growing shorter.

"Let me go, Daryl. Please," I plead, shuddering at how pathetic I must sound, "Please...this isn't Isaac. I have to get him ou-"

_**Boom!**_

* * *

Hot wet tears slide down the side of my head, my eyes trained on the roof of the vehicle. I can still feel him on me. He hasn't moved since the aftershock. I can feel his gaze on me, but I don't care. How could this happen? There was never a chance to say goodbye. There was never a warning. No sign of Isaac giving up. I curse Jenner. I curse Rick for bringing us here. I curse Daryl for stopping me from going back inside.

"Charlie?"

The soft tone is not something I am familiar with when associating Daryl's voice. Neither is the use of my name, as this is only the second time I've heard it leave his lips. Dragging out of my thoughts, I watch his eyes widen and grow apprehensive at the emptiness of my stare. I can feel it. Expressionless. Empty. Motionless. Nothing.

"Get off of me," I demand curtly.

"Not until y'tell me yer gonna be alright."

"Does it look like I'm going to be okay?" I hiss out, my frustration and anger breaking through, "I knew something was wrong with that man! I knew we should have left that very morning!"

"Sugar-"

"But I stupidly ignored my instincts screaming at me to get the fuck out! Why? Because you said there didn't seem to be anything wrong!"

"Sugar-"

"And I tried so hard, but then I knew, the moment I saw that look in his fucking eyes. I knew then that we walked into a death trap! But what did I do? Nothing! I just mindlessly followed you all!"

"Charlie!" The harshness of his tone causes me to growl, my lips closing as I glare up at him, "Isaac's alive, Sugar," The dread emotions fade in favor of shock as his tone softens once again, "He and Dale stayed behind to get Andrea out. Yer brother is fine."

Smacking at Daryl's chest in an wordless command to get off, I quickly stumble out of the truck to see Isaac and Dale helping Andrea off of the ground. Ignoring all else, I break into a dead sprint and tackle my annoying step-brother in a tight embrace. Fighting back the shudders quivering through my body, I bury my face into his chest, inhaling the scent that makes him Isaac. Pulling back, I give him a watery smile, earning one in return, before I cock my arm back and slamming my fist into his chest.

"What the fuck, Charlie!" Isaac groans, stumbling back from the blow.

Growling, I launch myself at him, only to be caught by Colt this time, "You stupid motherfucker! You pull another stunt like that and I'll hurt you in ways you'll be begging for a Walker!"

* * *

Finally calmed down, I hoist my bag in the bed of Daryl's truck. There is no way I can sit in the same vehicle as Isaac right now. I can hardly look at him. Hopping down from the truck, I groan as I stand, my gaze coming face-to-face with Rick.

"You aren't going to lecture me like Officer Dickhead just did, are you?" I mumble out, running a hand over my face tiredly, "Because, if that's the case, just...go."

"No. I wanted to thank you," I blink at Rick's words and he flashes me my gun, "Shane handed this off to me while you two were wrestling," A small tick appears along my jaw as Rick pulls out the clip, displaying the empty magazine, "I should have known after what happened with Natasha, you wouldn't willingly take a human being's life."

Scratching mildly at my cheek, feeling the corner of my lips twitch the slightest bit, I shrug nonchalantly, "Hey. It's like Russian Roulette...without the Russians."

Rick shakes his head, chuckling as he hands me back my gun, "You're a good person, Charlie. Don't ever let anyone tell you different."

"Aww...careful, Officer Friendly," I tease playfully, "People might start questioning your sanity if you keeps spouting off that bullshit."

Giving him a mocking salute, I pull myself inside the truck and glance over at Daryl. Flashing him a small smile, apologetic and thankful, I glance away after he nods, the engine of the truck coming to life. We couldn't even begin to put enough distance between us and that place, and with each passing minute, the tension fades away.

* * *

**Thank you, all my lovely readers and reviewers! I cannot begin to explain how awesome it was to come home from my trip and see not only my loyal reviewers, but a rather sudden incline of Minions! Now! Don't freak out! There are still a few chapters left until Part Two begins, because I have to make it realistic, cast members with longer hair and some with shorter and Daryl without a truck, but with a bike (sooo hott!). So, we still have some private moments coming up and some 'Charlie gets in some kind of trouble because she can never let shit go' and she can't...Livingston's are stubborn. Reviews = Cupcakes...Author likes Cupcakes! Cupcakes makes Author hyper. Hyper-Author writes more! See pictures?**

**Pein's Kid: YAY! Love cupcakes! And wow...really? To the end of the world? I'll end up becoming the cooler version of the Governor...without the eye-patch and sick aversion to sadistic tendencies. (sort of on the sadistic tendencies...I am a bit twisted in the head)**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: I don't speak HADJS;SOEJD...sorry. Sarcasm is my native tongue, English my secondary language. And of course I used your line in chapter 15. It was amusing...and people are drunk, so I said...why not? I had to put the 'Dude that's my sister' and 'She ain't my sister' in there only because I've actually had my brother do that to an old school friend at a 'mixer', who apparently didn't know we were related (we aren't very similar). Don't worry..Carl will get his cheek kissed at some point!**

**Paper Grenade: lol...awww...you are too kind! Review whenever you can, I appreciate it no matter what! **

**For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:**

**Freckles the Wanderer  
Paper Grenade  
Pein's Kid  
Ravenclaw Slytherin  
shyannene  
winterfellsfallenqueen  
kore12191  
Hannie88  
Lilly72  
Marizhka18  
DementorsKiss95  
lilhanna  
shmalana  
jalannas  
kelizabeth13  
kittykat195  
Nyx-Arae  
PandaVSZilla  
cbeeapple  
Fall-Back-Down  
ILovePieAlot  
SimbaSockz  
****mysticcameo  
crazychicalol  
Ariella81  
LilShorty0594  
Consulting Demon  
FyreLiLi  
i luv hardy  
VertigoDiva  
**

**Coming Next Chapter: The gang take to the road again. Camping out for the night, Daryl muses over Charlie's affection for star-gazing, Isaac comes to make amends, Charlie snaps on Andrea and Carl gives a cute little eight-year-old a flower. Awww...yes...children are too adorable!  
**

**THANKS AGAIN! You guys are awesome! Leave reviews and let me know what you think! Cupcakes are golden tickets!**


	18. Part 1-18: Reprieve

**As The World Falls**

**Summary:**

Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are form ed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.

Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.

**Author's Note: **This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out t h ere, but I want to take my shot at it . The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up i n to different Parts, following the Seasons . Th is story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me kn ow what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping i t as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.

* * *

**Part One**  
**Chapter Eighteen**  
_Reprieve_

* * *

_(n) 1. relief of blame, or responsibility. 2. A moment of release, or respite_

* * *

"Y'have to be the worst look out I've ever seen."

Pulling my attention away from the starry sky, I glance over to see Daryl sitting next to me, a small tick of amusement along his jawline. The group had decided to stop for the night and, once again, I find myself on the roof of the RV. I can sense the desire to ask a question in Daryl's expression as he offers me a cigarette, the half-empty pack he managed to find in one of the cars along the side of the road. Taking the cigarette, I light it up and inhale a long drag, shuddering as the nicotine rush hits.

"I don't recall ever saying I come up here to play watch dog," I state, flashing him a half-smile.

Daryl's head tilts in the slightest manner, "Then...why do ya sit up here all the time?"

"The first night at the quarry, I couldn't sleep. Dale must have noticed me wandering around the camp aimlessly, because he offered for me to sit up here. The first night I sat up here and I saw the stars, I just...couldn't stop," I respond, smiling at the memory of star-gazing many years ago.

"So, what's the deal with you and stars?"

Blinking back the memory, I look over at Daryl for a brief moment before my gaze drifts back up, "Growing up, my grandfather had really been the only father-figure I knew. Once a week, for as long as I can remember, he would take me to one of the observation plots along the mountains. I kind of just...fell in love with it. He used to take trips, little vacations, since he was retired, and I wouldn't want him to go, so one day he took me out and told me that no matter where he was, no matter how far he might be, if I take the chance to gaze upon the stars, I can take the knowledge that he would be looking upon the same stars as me," I snort slightly, "Totally cheesy, but you don't really question these things when you're a kid. After awhile, it just became...a habit. After he died, it became...instinct, I suppose."

Looking over at Daryl, I offer him a small smile and a shrug, "I could tell you a few of the constellations, what's a star and what's a planet, but I actually have no desire for astronomy itself. I was horrible in Science classes."

Daryl chuckles, shaking his head, "Don't y'think keepin' an eye out fer Walkers is more important?"

"Well, I would, but as it goes to show, there's this pain-in-the-ass redneck that keeps joining me up here. I figured, he's more vigilant than I am, so let him keep watch," I snark in return, earning another husky laugh.

"Yer sumthin else, y'know that, right?"

Nodding, I can't help the small laugh that leaves my lips as he nudges the side of my arm lightly, "Oh believe me, before Walkers came to be, I was often looked at like I was 'other-worldly'. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean?" I retort with a shrug of my shoulder.

"I dunno what yer goin' on 'bout, but y'keep yer head in the clouds and yer gonna miss stuff like that."

Following the direction of Daryl's nonchalant point, I bite down on my bottom lip at the sight of a nervous Carl approaching Isaac and Mel. My amusement softens when the nervous boy pauses in front of them and wordlessly hands Mel a wildflower. Tilting my head, I muse over the beauty of the flower. The yellow tips along the long, thin petals seems to contrast brightly against the bold red-orange coloring the rest of the petals. I've seen this type of flower very few times before, but not enough to know its name. Seeing the bright smile stretch across my niece's face, a familiar warmth blooms within my chest as Mel launches herself off of Isaac's lap and hugs the small boy. A bright red flush spreads along Carl's cheeks when the small blonde presses a chaste kiss on his cheek, the boy obviously stuttering before sauntering back to his parents.

"Now that was adorable," I giggle, turning my attention back to Daryl.

My eyes widen when I realize I had somehow shifted closer to Daryl, my left side pressing against his right, his right arm angled behind the both of us. He seems equally as surprised and the lightest shudder crawls across my spine as the warmth of his breath brushes across my cheek. A flush floods along my cheekbones when a warm, calloused hand cups the left side of my face, a roughened thumb tracing along my lips. Feeling them part on their own accord, my breath catches in my throat when he dips his head, catching my lips with his own. The warmth wrapping around the instinctive tension along my body causes my eyes to close, a small gasp leaves me at the feel of the tip of his tongue tracing along my lips. The gasp seems to work in his favor, the tremors of my body slowly tightening as his own tongue seems to tease my own into an odd dance. My own tongue tries to follow his own back into his mouth and as my tongue pulls back, my teeth gently nips at his bottom lip.

The responding groan from him causes me to shudder, my palm pushing against his chest lightly. Getting the hint, Daryl breaks away from the kiss, his forehead resting against my own. A blush heats my cheeks as I peer into the uncharacteristically warm blue eyes. The cheeky grin I receive in response to my blush causes me to sneer playfully, shoving his shoulder back.

"Don't get cocky, backwards hick."

"Y'mean, being able to render a city-girl like ya speechless ain't a reason fer me to be cocky?" Daryl quips teasingly.

"Now you're just being a dick," I retort, feeling the tension fade from my body.

"Oh? Yer wantin' that too?"

Knowing I am not going to win this one, I shake my head and glance away. Seeing Isaac's light blue eyes blatantly staring, I bite down on the inside of my cheek. Damn. So much for keeping this budding relationship between just the two of us.

* * *

"Can we talk?"

Running a hand through my short hair, I glance up at Isaac, nodding slowly, "Sure."

"I'm sorry. I know it was wrong of me to attempt to stay behind, but...it would be wrong of me to leave Andrea behind," I glare at the name, Isaac raising his hands defensively, "Don't get me wrong, I'm not exactly happy that she was about to use Amy's memory to opt out. I was insulted on Amy's behalf and wasn't thinking right."

Knowing how passionate Isaac can get, I nod slowly, patting him on his back, "I'm just glad you're okay. Sorry for punching you."

"Pft," Isaac snorts out, waving his hand dismissively, "I would've punched you if you had pulled a stunt like that." Isaac pauses, glancing over at me before looking away, "Does he treat you right?" I nod slowly, realizing what he is talking about, "Good. Just...be careful. You know how Colt reacts to you getting all...close to other people."

"Yeah, well, if Colt pulls the same shit he did with Jamie, I'm going to rip him a new asshole."

Isaac lets out a burst of laughter, clapping me along the back of my shoulder, "No doubt about that. Are you riding with Daryl?"

"Stupid motherfuckin' piece o'shit!" Isaac and I both look over to see Daryl climbing out of the beat up blue truck.

I motion for Isaac to wait before I approach the irritated Daryl. A quick observation causes me to realize the truck finally kicked the bucket. Musing over what to do, I tell Daryl to pull our bags from the bed of the truck and I turn back to the Livingston truck. Signaling for Isaac to help me pull my bike down from the truck, making more room for the additional bags.

"Ready to ride, Daryl?" I quip playfully, seeing him cock an eyebrow, I motion toward the motorcycle in the bed of his own truck, "Unless that's just all for show."

Seeing the playful glare shot in my direction, I chuckle as Isaac smacks the thin-leather, riding jacket against my chest. Slipping it on, my gloves soon following, I rev the engine of the bike. Hearing an answering rev, I glance up to see Daryl smirking at me, straddling his own bike. Knowing my bike is built for speed, where his is built for endurance, I take the helmet from Isaac and hook it under my arm.

"You do know noise attracts Walkers right?" Colt points out needlessly.

Glancing over at my brother, I hear the instigating engine rev from Daryl, "Walkers are nothing. This is a matter of pride. I'm about to wipe the fucking floor with Daryl's skull if he keeps it up." Seeing the gleam of concern in Colt's eyes, I slap the top of my helmet, "Chill out, Colt. After everything that happened yesterday, I need this freedom. Besides, think of us as a pair of scouts," Knowing Colt as well as I do, I can see the shift from civilian to soldier in his demeanor, "We'll go no further than ten miles ahead, see if there are more vehicles we can scavenge from, or maybe even shopping centers. If we come across any Walkers, Daryl and I have the quickest vehicles and the most silent weapons."

"At least let Rick know your plan," the stern instruction built into the mindset of a commanding officer.

Giving him a mocking salute, I motion for Daryl to wait as I head over to where the majority of the group are, talking and debating over where to go. The argument falls silent as Rick takes notice of my approach and the smile I receive from the group leader causes me to nod respectfully in return. His gaze takes in my helmet and leather before flicking behind me, seeing Daryl sitting on the bike and my bike waiting for me.

"You're not thinking of leaving, are you?"

Rick's question causes me to tilt my head in confusion before I realize what our situation might look like, and I shake my head, "Oh, no. Daryl's truck kind of took the proverbial shit and he doesn't want to leave Merle's bike behind. Figured we can go on ahead and get a better idea of what we're coming up to."

"On motorcycles?" Andrea's voice questions, her tone suggestion a lack of thought on my part, "I thought you didn't have a death wish."

Ignoring Andrea for the time being, I bow my head briefly to Rick, "Our bikes can maneuver easily and quickly, far faster than any Walker can react to, and our weapons are the quietest. They won't know what hit them until they're dead..." I pause, morbidly amused, "again. I already told Colt we won't go any further than ten miles up the road, see if we can find buildings to hold up in during the night."

"That's...actually a very good idea," Rick states, most likely surprised that we hadn't come up with this idea before hand, "Just try to stay safe. Don't do anything reckless."

Amused, I let out a small laugh, clapping Rick on the shoulder, "Me? Reckless? You're sense of humor kills me every time." Rick snorts with amusement and I step back away from the group, my gaze settling on Andrea, "And if I were you, I wouldn't make comments about death wishes. I nearly lost an important member of my family because of your irrational behavior."

"Irrational? So sorry you didn't have to kill your own flesh and blood," Andrea snarks, my words obviously hitting a sensitive nerve.

"No. I just had to kill the only person outside of my family that understands me better than myself half the time," I shoot back, my tone curt and my irritation mounting as the realization flickers in her gaze, "and Isaac practically witnessed our family dying, probably by his own hand. If you want to insult the memory of your sister's life by throwing away your own, so be it, but don't drag my family down with you, you dumb bitch."

Not allowing her the chance of responding, I give Rick a mocking salute before turning on point and stalking back to my bike. Slipping the helmet over my head, more out of habit than need, I straddle my bike, revving the engine to grab Daryl's attention. Pulling him from a silent conversation with Isaac, I earn a nod in return before I pull up the kickstand and hit the throttle.

"Eat my dust, bitch!" I call out to Daryl as I speed off, my hand slapping the visor down.

Hearing the rumble of the engine behind my, I smirk inwardly. The dangerously fast speed and long stretch of barren road allows my tension to fade.

* * *

**Sorry for the rather long time between updates. I'm afraid I've become terribly sick and can hardly breathe half the time without feeling like I'm about to lose a lung. Thanks for reading and I hope you guys enjoy it. Although, I do have to give an awesome, warm and big as THANK YOU to the sudden incline of reviews and Minions. Seriously, you guys make me so proud! Reviews = Cupcakes...Author likes Cupcakes! Cupcakes makes Author hyper. Hyper-Author writes more! See pictures?**

**Pein's Kid: Aww...sorry I made you almost cry. Next time, I'll be sure to make you lose a tear! hahahaha (evil me). Thanks for your review!**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: Yes...too cute!**

**DementorsKiss95: You made me grin hard core! My OC's are based off of people in my life, important people in my life. At least, personality wise. The reactions they have and the way they communicate is based off of real conversations.**

**Dee: hehehe...I'm glad you guys seem to adore Isaac so much. Ironically (or not so much so), I do have a step-brother named Isaac, who's been going through a lot of trouble, so I kind of just...wrote him into the story and he's just...kind of grown into it.**

**Emberka-2012: Aww...welcome to the home of my Minions that keep demanding more of me (grins). Thank you for your review and I look forward to your thoughts in the future!**

**SimbaSockz: I'd put the period between your two names, but it tends to just...ex out the majority of your name, so Simba it is! And yes, that has always been my thoughts. I can't say I've had the easiest life, nor the greatest memories, but I have never honestly turned to suicide. I've always maintained the mentality of 'push through'. Kind of like 'Just keep swimming' (love Finding Nemo!).**

**TO MY GUEST THAT I HAVE NO NAME FOR: I thank you sincerely for your reviews. As the author, I would like to explain some of the things you've mentioned. 1) Charlie's description was a quick and simple description in Chapter One, when she is in the gas station bathroom with Mel. As this is in first person, descriptions of her appearance is when she is actually looking at her reflection, as we generally know what our appearances look like. 2) lol...'well-developed breasts' is not what I was inferring. She is a petite, small framed, so by the use of 'ample breasts' I mean she's proportionally average (A-B cup). In the chapter where the Vato, Miguel, states he didn't know she was a woman, her glance down at her chest was more because she was wearing a halter top (one of her constant pieces of clothing), than her having sizable breasts. Thank you, again, for your reviews. I'm glad you are enjoying the story!**

**AN: The entire subject of suicide is difficult to swallow, especially at the moment. My ex-boyfriend, best friend of more than eight years and father of my beloved, beautiful daughter (I'm nearly twenty-five people), died almost a month ago (my 'vacation' wasn't typical 'get away') and a few days after the memorial service, I got a phone call from my step-father telling me my step-brother tried to swallow a bunch of pills. Thankfully, he's fine and when he comes home from 'his' vacation, I'm allowed to give him a heavy punch. So, actually, you all reading and reviewing as I write this story has helped me cope with the loss, and potential loss, of important people in my life, so when I say thank you, I truly mean it!**

**For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:**

**Freckles the Wanderer  
Paper Grenade  
Pein's Kid  
Ravenclaw Slytherin  
shyannene  
winterfellsfallenqueen  
kore12191  
Hannie88  
Lilly72  
Marizhka18  
DementorsKiss95  
lilhanna  
shmalana  
jalannas  
kelizabeth13  
kittykat195  
Nyx-Arae  
PandaVSZilla  
cbeeapple  
Fall-Back-Down  
ILovePieAlot  
SimbaSockz  
****mysticcameo  
crazychicalol  
Ariella81  
LilShorty0594  
Consulting Demon  
FyreLiLi  
i luv hardy  
VertigoDiva  
ks90  
GetTraught  
Ardelliox  
hideher  
Emberka-2012  
KuroAkumu  
**

**Coming Next Chapter: Daryl and Charlie come across a turn off marked with a warehouse shopping center. What happens when the two most reckless and hot-headed members of the group end up in a competition to see how many Walkers they can kill? Charlie contemplates cutting her hair. The gang take a much needed rest in the safety of the store! What comes up in the 'group conversation'?  
**

**THANKS AGAIN! You guys are awesome! Leave reviews and let me know what you think! Cupcakes are golden tickets!**


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